Ashes to Ashes
by Riddell Lee
Summary: A.U. Before the accident, Danny Phantom entered high school, ready to take on the world. He didn't believe in ghosts, and he certainly didn't know that he would soon become one.
1. High School

**Author's Note:**

**Plot:** AU. Danny Fenton doesn't believe in ghosts. In fact, he would go so far as to say that he hates them. He's a starting freshman and the only thing on his mind is being a normal boy, but apparently the universe has other plans. Little does he know that he will become apart of string of events that will force him to accept their existence and, eventually, join their ranks.

**Pairing(s):** Hints of Danny/Sam

**Rating:** Teen

**Disclaimer:** Hartman has acknowledged the existence of fanfiction, and doesn't mind if we borrow his characters.

Hello everyone! Yes, I know I have three other unfinished stories that are demanding to be written, but what can I say? When you have a plot bunny, you have a plot bunny! Now, there won't be any 'ghosts' for a while, but hopefully the characters and social drama will keep you entertained until the horror sets in.

Yes, this is a multi-crossover, but allow me to explain. They will be appearing in the second part **Dust to Dust**. Now, there is some setting up for the fandoms to come, but they do not play a major part in this one except for background. Hinted at is An no Exorcist, Supernatural, and Dr. Who. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of them in order to enjoy this story – which this story is no longer marked as a crossover.

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

Dust to dust

Body to ground

In this we trust

Depart this life

Rot to naught

From earth to earth

Food for thought

We'll wither away

Give up the ghost

Join the throng

Of undead hosts

* * *

><p>High School.<p>

The gateway to hell, the portal to life. The novelty of the new domain wouldn't last; the terrible monotony of school would cause every perk to lose its appeal. Social life would take on a whole new meaning, and labels would be slapped onto backs by cruel hands. Daniel Fenton – Danny, he was quick to correct – knew he couldn't stop himself from anticipating the first day. Granted, his sister had already tried to convince him that high school was nothing special, and that it would feel just as – if not more – unbearable than middle school had. She was probably right, but that didn't stop him from double checking his backpack, didn't stop him from setting aside his chosen outfit, and it didn't stop him from going to bed early.

But what would it _really_ be like? He hadn't seen anyone except Sam and Tucker over the break. Well, mostly anyway. Sam had left with her family for the last two weeks of summer to some family reunion in California – Santa Cruz, if he remembered correctly. Though he kept his eyes shut, a smile curled about his lips as he recalled their farewell.

"_Make sure you bring sun block. Heaven forbid you come back the same color as the rest of us." _

"_Oh, very funny Danny. You know you're not the tannest kid around either. This is going to be horrible, my mom's already tried to sabotage my luggage."_

"_What did she do?"_

"_Tried to fill it with pink skirts and sunshine-yellow dresses, ug. Can I trust you guys won't kill yourselves while I'm gone?"_

"_C'mon Sam, Tucker and I will be fine. We need some __**guy time **__anyways."_

"_Right… Argh! I am not looking forward to spending two weeks with a bunch of people I don't even __**know**_**.**"

Her face had been grim, as though she were headed to the gallows rather than a family gathering. It had actually been quite comical, her cringing as sickly sweet voices called her to the car, and the hug that seemed to scream _save me!_ Well, after two weeks without her and only Tucker to hang out with, he was anxious for her to get home. He missed her Goth-bird persona that was uniquely her. That, and he didn't think he could endure another one of Tucker's technology spiels without someone to glance at and exchange sniggers. Danny rolled over; trying to get in a more comfortable position, but only succeeded in knocking his pillow to the floor. After several moments, during which he considered just leaving it there, he sighed and opened his eyes.

Icy blue irises gazed around, not a trace of fatigue within them. The room was rather large, with a desk pushed up against the wall beside the door. On the other side, a dresser shared the space with a poorly endowed bookshelf – a random collection of comic books, paranormal anthologies, and an eight ball on the middle shelf. A poster of his favorite band, Humpty Dumpty, was pasted beside a floor-length mirror on the other side of the dresser. Then, beside his queen bed – which had been placed in the centre between two windows – was a beanbag and couch-chair.

It was the most normal room in the whole house.

With a sigh, he sat up and ran a hand through his black hair, pushing his ruffled bangs out of his eyes. Though dark, he could see his pillow quite clearly on the floor beside his bedside table. He leaned over, grabbed it and then proceeded to try and fluff it up. Before he could lie back down however, a vibration of metal on wood followed by an annoying jumble of notes alerted him that he had a phone call. After checking the caller-ID he flipped it open.

"Hey, Sam."

Sam's voice was indignant when she responded. "Are you in bed already?"

"Well, yeah." Danny sighed. "I don't want to be late my for first day."

"Danny. It's 9:30."

He sighed heavily. "I know…" But before he could even try to argue his case, Sam was talking again, very fast and excited.

"Anyway, that's not why I called. I cut my hair!"

Danny blinked, wondering if he had heard correctly. "What?"

"Yeah, I finally did it! Course, Mom's not too happy…"

Immediately an image of a Sam in a Mohawk popped into his mind. He choked slightly, caught between a snigger of laughter and a panicked gasp. It was silent on the other end of the phone for a moment.

"You just imagined me in a Mohawk, didn't you?"

"Well, it _is_ a popular Goth hairstyle, isn't it?"

He could practically see her rolling her eyes. "You'll see it tomorrow. Just don't give me too much crap about it, all right?" There was a pause as she sighed. "So, what did you and Tucker do?"

"Speaking of which, I'd have thought you'd call him and get him to set up a three-way call."

A snort of laughter. "He's just as pathetic as you. Only difference is he _was_ asleep when I called and all I got was a grumbled 'talk you tomorrow' before it disconnected."

"Ah," Danny smiled. "Nothing spectacular. Played several violent video games, endured my parents explaining their new "project" and went to see Bloodbath 2."

"What?" There was some furious grumbling, and then a dejected, "I tried to see it but _someone_—" No doubt her parents, he mused. "—didn't consider it _appropriate_ for a girl to see."

He laughed. "It's all right. It's still in the theatre. We can see it this weekend. But, you're buying."

"Fine."

"So, how was the family?"

"So painful that I only want to relate it once. I'll tell you _and_ Tucker tomorrow."

"Haha, okay. Well, I'm going to bed then."

"Good luck. A night owl can't suddenly become an early bird."

Danny frowned, but hung up all the same. He was determined to get to school on time and be attentive in his classes. After all, the first and last days of school were the best. He laid down and pulled the comforter up to his chin, his hands sliding under his head as he stared at the ceiling. Great, now he couldn't stop himself from trying to imagine what sort of haircut Sam had gotten. Or her face when Tucker gave her a file of Bloodbath 2 in High Definition, downloaded _in_ the theatre.

And so it was that Danny lay flat on his back, trying in vain to fall asleep.

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>In the end, Danny thought as he poured milk into his bowl of cereal, he should have just gone to bed the same time he always did. He hadn't gotten to sleep until past one, and even then he had jerked awake every half-an-hour or so. He'd gotten up nearly an hour before his alarm rang, finally giving in to the fact he wasn't going to get any rest. He yawned widely and took a spoonful of the cheerios, but halfway to his mouth it was knocked roughly out his hand.<p>

"What?" He exclaimed, jumping and hitting his knee on the underside of the table. _What on earth was it now, _he thought grumpily, now rubbing the smarting bump on his patella.

He looked up to see his father, now quickly taking the milk away from the table. Danny had never met anyone that matched his father in height. Jack Fenton was large and, due to a love of fudge, had started putting on some weight. His black hair had started to gray, particularly on the sides. He looked a little like him, well; he had his hair and eyes anyway.

"Sorry Danny," he said putting the milk back in the fridge, "Forgot about the ecto-milk-nutritioner!"

Danny blinked. "The _what_?" he glanced down at his bowl and blanched. It was light green, and seemed to be glowing slightly. He swore under his breath. That had been the last of the cereal.

"It's supposed to make ectoplasm run through one's veins like garlic and ward off the ghosts! Only we're having some problems getting the ectoplasm to combine with the milk."

"I'm suddenly not hungry," Danny said, standing and dumping the luminescent breakfast into the _Fenton Garbage Disposal_.

"Here, sweetie."

Danny turned and smiled as his mother held out a lunch sack and a piece of toast with jam on it. Maddie Fenton did not look like the type of woman who would marry Jack. Her hair was short and straight, a light brown that had hints of red in it. She was slim, with thunder-thighs and the warmest smile he'd ever seen.

"There you go. Have a wonderful day at school!" Her smile suddenly turned excited and she rambled on, "When you get home, I need your help to start kicking in the dry wall downstairs for the Fenton Ghost Portal!"

Danny felt his smile lose its sincerity.

"Right, sure," he said and he grabbed the lunch and the toast before exiting the room at top speed.

Right, there was no, "And tell me all about your first day at Casper High!" As much as he loved his parents – despite the fact that they constantly wore spandex jumpsuits, his mother a turquoise, his father a shocking caution orange – he grew weary of their ghost obsession. They'd been this way ever since he could remember, always inventing strange – and more often than not – hazardous things in the basement. He'd been covered in ectoplasmic goo more times than he cared to count, and had even gone to the emergency room after accidentally swallowing a mouthful of the stuff when he was five.

He knew they loved him, but sometimes it felt like he was competing for their attention. Him against the _idea_ of undead-specters. Yes, the mere idea. His parents hadn't even seen a real ghost. He'd bought into their fascination for a few months when he was nine. They'd been so thrilled and told him everything they knew about ghosts, where they came from, and how to kill them. If he was honest, he'd been pretty excited, eager to see one of these horrifying spectral creatures. But, after unsuccessful hunt after unsuccessful hunt, he had realized there was no such thing.

Yawning widely, he shoved his lunch into his backpack – which for some reason was _purple_ – and slung it over his shoulder. He was just about to walk out when a voice behind him stopped him.

"Hey Danny. Want a ride?"

Danny turned and blinked several times. Jasmine Fenton stood at the bottom of the stairs, holding her own backpack and looking rather awkward. She brought a hand up to her long red hair and adjusted the blue-green ribbon back into place. She had blue eyes, like Danny, but they were tinted with a gentle sea green and an intelligence to rival his mothers. She was older than him by two years, and she liked to think she _knew it all_. He hesitated, then…

"Sure." It was better than riding the overcrowded bus anyway. She gave him a smile remarkably like their mother's and lead the way out of the house and down the front steps.

Jazz's car wasn't anything spectacular, but it was _normal_ and that was good enough for him. A third-hand blue Honda civic, the paint was chipped on the right passenger door, and there was a dent on the bumper. He'd never tell Jazz, but he loved that car. Then again, she might have figured that out on her own, what with him gazing at it all lovingly and whatnot. The interior was tan, with accents of blue. The carpets were heavily stained, and a strong scent of coffee mixed with cheap spearmint air-freshener filled his nostrils. The car purred as it pulled out of the driveway, though the sound lessened to a soft rumble as it rounded the block.

"So, Danny." He glanced at her. "Mr. Lancer always starts his classes with an essay about yourself. He usually forms his opinion of you based on that essay, so it's a good idea try and get it the best you can. Otherwise the only hope you have of getting an A is joining the football team. And—"

"Whoa, Jazz," Danny said holding up a hand to cut her off. "You told me this all yesterday." He paused a moment, then smirked, "Are you worried about your little brother?"

She glared at him. "No. I just want to make sure you make it through high school and come out prepared for the future."

"C'mon, how hard can it be?"

"Only if you don't take it seriously!"

All of a sudden, Danny wished he had taken the bus.

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>"Dude, are you okay?"<p>

Danny looked up. A few inches taller than him, Tucker Foley had warm chocolate brown skin, and close-cropped black hair that he usually covered with his favorite red beret. They'd been best friends _since forever_ – he actually had no idea how long it had been exactly, being pretty horrible at math. Danny grimaced.

"As okay as one can be after being lectured by their sister. It's not funny Tuck!"

Tucker – how had started chuckling, now had to work even harder to compose himself. "And it looks like you got, what, three hours of sleep?"

Danny glowered, and opted to look around the crowded hall. The bell to single homeroom was supposed to ring in a little less than five minutes. The rest of his grade were milling about, congratulating each other for making it to the ninth grade and exchanging summer stories. He searched for a glimmer of purple and black in the crowd of freshmen, but was disappointed.

"Where is Sam? She's usually here before us," he said fidgeting slightly.

"That was middle school. Now, we're closer to the building than she is."

"Oh, right."

"You guys wouldn't be waiting for me, would you?"

Danny whirled around, smiling. "Sam finally, we—" he cut off abruptly. He didn't think a person could change so much in two weeks, and she hadn't been kidding. She _had_ cut her hair – though to his relief it wasn't a Mohawk. The long midnight hair that usually fell haphazardly over her shoulders had gone. It was maybe an inch longer than his mother's now and subtly layered, with bangs covering her forehead. For a moment, neither Danny nor Tucker could say a word. She eyed them apprehensively, a faint pink twinge accenting her pale face.

"It's crap, isn't it? I know I should've—"

"It looks great." Danny cut in, grinning more broadly.

"Yeah," Tucker said beaming as well. "Different. But cool."

Sam smiled, bringing a hand to curl a strand behind her ear. Danny blinked, and then realized what else was different. "Sam!" he exclaimed and she jumped.

"What?"

"Your eyes!"

Tucker blinked then gasped too. Sam's dark coffee gaze had disappeared. Instead, a stunning violet had taken its place. She smiled rather slyly. "I figured if I had to wear contacts anyway, I might as well enjoy it. They're glass too, so I just leave them in until I need a different prescription."

"Ah, well…" Danny swallowed. "It's different. In a good way!" he amended quickly. Then he grinned. "It's totally you."

Sam beamed at him.

"Right so, we should probably get to homeroom."

Danny turned and nodded. "Yeah, wait." He glanced at his schedule. "Who do you guys have?"

"Lancer," Tucker replied gazing down at his.

"Same here," Sam responded.

"Great…" Danny said, suddenly frowning.

"What, you don't?"

"No, it's some lady named Webb."

"Let me see your schedule." Without waiting for a reply, Sam snatched the slip of paper out of his hands and stared it as though she were trying to will the words to change. She handed it back looking defeated, but optimistic. "Well, the rest of our schedule is the same." She paused. "Maybe they didn't have enough room or something."

"Maybe…"

At that moment the bell rang, calling all students to their respected advisories. Tucker patted him on the back. "See you in an hour, all right?" Danny nodded glumly and watched their retreating backs for a moment before turning with a resigned sigh toward his assigned classroom. It felt so strange to be walking down the hall without Sam and Tucker at his elbows, listening to them either bicker about the nutritional value of meat verses vegetables or else discussing a new movie. Oh! Right, they were giving Sam her _surprise_ after school today.

Feeling slightly happier, he paused outside the classroom in question. The rest of the students seemed to have already entered and were picking their seats. He recognized some of the faces from his class, but there were others he didn't know. And… he cursed silently under his breath. Jazz was sitting in the front seat, looking ridiculously excited. Well, that solved the mystery of how he had gotten in there. She'd probably asked the teacher to have him in her homeroom. They'd gotten a letter about a week ago explaining the inter-grade advisory groups that were held every Monday before class; something about it being an effective way to bring grades together and establish their high school and beyond plan.

And so it was that Danny entered room 106 alone.


	2. Breaking the Ice

**Author's Note:**

You may notice that the author's notes have changed – that is, if you're re-reading this. I'm just simply updating my comments since the story has changed quite a bit – Mainly completing with Danny's portal accident and the absence of any actual crossoverness. Other than some wonderful guest appearances of characters that, in reality, are a part of religious and mythological folklore and therefore not belonging to any one fandom.

Special Thanks to Hornswaggler for Beta-ing for me!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>  
><strong>Breaking the Ice<strong>

Advisory was one of those reformations that the administration had implemented after it was obvious test scores were only continuing their steep decline. It was a change that nearly everyone disliked, with teachers complaining about the loss of valuable class time and students grumbling about being forced to take their academics seriously. Jazz, of course, had loved the idea. She had wasted no time in telling Danny all about it, how it was a way for students to keep on top of their grades, find tutors, and plot a course for their life. And, after two years of _experimenting _with the idea, the faculty seemed to think that they had finally gotten right. In all honesty, it didn't sound like a bad idea and Danny assumed it had stopped more than one kid from failing. But his opinion changed the instant he entered classroom 106.

The first strike against it was the absence of his two best friends. Sam and Tucker were in Mr. Lancer's homeroom, and he had never been without at least one of them before. The second strike was Jazz. Somehow, he knew it was her fault he wasn't in Mr. Lancer's homeroom. She had decided to be overbearing at school, as if home wasn't enough for her. Strike three?

Dash Baxter. And he suddenly, he _hated_ advisory.

Tall, burly, and blonde, Dash was everything Danny was not. Becoming popular back in middle school due to his affinity with sports, he'd come back over the summer looking as though he'd turned sixteen, rather than fourteen. Class hadn't even started yet and Danny knew Dash had secured his status as "most popular" of the freshmen class. He was sitting in the front row, wearing an expression of the utmost smugness as he – by the looks of it – bragged loudly to the girls beside him about his summer accomplishments. As if beating up Mikey, the smallest boy in freshmen year, could be considered an accomplishment. He didn't even glance at him as Danny passed by his station, which suited Danny just fine.

Any conversation with Dash was painfully one-sided anyway.

Danny walked slow, hesitating, unsure of where to sit. The classroom was large and unnaturally clean, with white linoleum tiles and black hardtop counters. Instead of desks there were an array of three person stations, each equipped with two gas outlets, a sink, and storage space beneath. To the right of the whiteboard, opposite the entrance was a strange metal contraption that Danny recognized as an emergency shower. The classroom made the advisory look smaller than it really was, made each vacant seat strangely obvious. But, he didn't really know anyone well enough to sit with them. Sam and Tucker had always been with him…

In the end, he took a seat beside the only other freshmen, Valerie Gray, and a very freckled boy with sandy hair. Valerie tossed her black curly hair, glancing at him curiously for a moment before turning away, apparently uninterested in making conversation. Danny didn't mind, he didn't really know her anyway. The sandy haired boy on the other hand, grinned and extended a hand. "I'm Martin Clark, a sophomore. You're in the freshmen class, right?"

He had a hoarse scratchy voice, as though he gone to a concert the night before. Danny nodded. "Yeah. I'm Danny Fenton." He smiled back, feeling rough calluses' beneath his fingers as he shook hands with him.

Martin blinked, hazel eyes widening. "Fenton?" He gave a short airy laugh. "Aren't your parents those ghost enthusiasts?"

Danny quickly drained of color. "Ah… well, you _could_ say that," he mumbled, casting his gaze to the floor. This happened every time he tried to introduce himself. They'd bring up his family's sick obsession with ghosts and then the teasing would start. Ever since his parents had crashed that city hall meeting three years ago under the pretense of a ghost haunting the ventilation system – which, of course, there wasn't – the reputation of the Fenton's had gone from slightly eccentric inventors to paranoid crackpots. Danny hunched his shoulders instinctively, waiting for the mocking to ensue, but Martin didn't touch the subject again. In fact, he behaved as though it had never taken place.

"So, I'm assuming you've never met Webb?"

Danny blinked and shook his head, slightly taken aback. Martin smiled and went on.

"In case you couldn't tell, she's the science teacher. Chemistry really, but of course, we need her to teach biology too – don't ask her the difference between foxes, dogs, and cats, she has _no idea_." He laughed, as though recalling an amusing memory. "She's really nice though, and favors her advisory kids – well, every teacher does, but she brings us treats and gives us extra credit opportunities. Just don't ask her—" he stopped abruptly, his head jerking toward the door. Danny followed his gaze.

A woman he could only assume was Ms. Webb entered, causing the class to fade into polite silence. She was a rather short woman, with the look of someone who had been sick for a long time. She was pale and thin, with purple shadows under her bright brown eyes. She was rather disheveled in appearance, her shirt wrinkled and mouse brown hair tied back in a messy knot. All the same, she smiled warmly, eyes crinkling as they scanned over the small group of students.

"Welcome to advisory!" She spoke in a low alto, yet clear and sharp like church bells. "I am Ms. Webb." She gave a mock bow and a few of the older students chuckled. "But, unlike some of the other teachers here, I don't mind if you drop the title. In fact, please do. It makes me feel old and far more proper than I _am_." A few more laughs followed this. Danny found himself smiling in spite of himself.

"Now listen up freshmen – everyone else can tune out, you've heard this spiel before – During the next four years, you will be in this advisory. Hopefully you'll come to think of us as family—" Danny glanced at Dash and resisted the urge to snort, _fat chance_, "—and trust us to help." Her smiled faded and she continued in a slightly more serious tone, "I cannot tell you how many tragedies could've be averted if only someone had opened their mouth. I may not be a counselor, but it doesn't take one to listen." She paused as though using the silence to make her point then went on, much more cheerful, "I will also be helping you form plans for the future. You probably have no idea what you want to do – I myself didn't decide till my sophomore year in college – but you don't want to close yourself to options with horrible grades. But we'll get more into that later," she said with a wave of her hand. "Today, we're just going to play a few icebreaker games to get to know each other better."

Webb beamed at them all then turned to write something on the whiteboard and the advisory immediately broke into excited whispers.

"Family."

Danny turned back to Martin. "What?"

"Don't ask her about her family," Martin said in an undertone, glancing toward Webb. "She has more than one issue with her sister and she'd rather not discuss it. But, if you ask, she feels as though she has to answer – so just don't ask."

"Okay…" Danny didn't have time to be more articulate than that; Webb had turned back to the class, stepping aside for them all to read the board. She had divided them into two teams, and to his relief, he saw he wasn't on the same one as Jazz.

"So, I believe you are all familiar with two truths and a lie?" Webb said glancing around at them all. "It's basically that, but the whole team has ten seconds to decide what is the lie. The team with the most points decides the treat for next week."

There was a pause as Webb produced a coin from her pocket. Danny waited for her to ask a team to pick heads or tails. Dash too was staring at her curiously, though Jazz merely rolled her eyes. Beside him, Martin looked as though he were preparing to jump. Then, without any warning, he yelled, "Heads!" just as she flipped it high in the air, cutting off all the others. Heads it was.

And so the game began.

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>It wasn't nearly as bad as Danny had thought it was going to be. Webb – who he had thought would just sit back and enjoy the show – joined in, behaving as exuberant as any of the others, despite the fact that Danny thought she looked likely to collapse. He had even managed to score a point for his team! Not even his sister had known that he preferred white to blue. And, he'd been key in figuring out Jazz's lie, resulting in their victory. Martin had high-fived him so hard that his hand had smarted for several minutes afterwards. They'd requested homemade brownies – Webb's specialty, according to the older students.<p>

"See you next week!" Webb called over the bell.

"That wasn't so bad," Danny voiced to Martin, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

Martin laughed. "You'll probably change your mind when we start the test prepping." He waved, "Later, dude." And he turned left, while Danny went right.

That had really been much better than he had expected. Danny couldn't help but allow a smile to lighten his features as he strode down the hallway. Even Jazz hadn't been able to make a mess of things – not that she still wouldn't, though. He _had_ noticed Dash giving him this very sour look at the end of the game though. Hopefully that didn't mean anything too sinister.

He found his friends standing outside of Mr. Lancer's classroom, deep in conversation and slightly nervous. Tucker wasn't even holding a piece of technology. When they spotted him, they dashed to his side.

"I'm really sorry, Danny," Sam said, and she truly looked it. "But, Lancer said the advisories are set. No switching of students."

"Yeah man, we tried everything." Tucker added, regarding him sadly.

Danny shrugged. "It's okay. Webb is pretty chill."

"Chill?"

Danny laughed. "Yeah," he said flashing them a reassuring smile. "Anyway, we have Mr. Lancer together now, right?"

Tucker grinned. "Yup. C'mon," and he lead the way into the classroom. "Lancer's all right. For now, anyway." He chuckled and Danny shared it with him. "We spent the whole time going over what we would be doing. Boring, but interesting."

Danny grinned wider. "Really? We played two truths and a lie."

Tucker made a noise of indignation, but drowned whatever retort he had. He swallowed, looking at a point above Danny's head, paling rapidly.

"Did you, Fenton? Well, perhaps you'd like to take a seat. We do not play icebreaker games in English."

Danny whirled around, nearly jumping out of his skin. Mr. Lancer was a man who, by the looks of it, had gone bald prematurely as his goatee was still charcoal black. He had a square chin, but a good-natured face. He gave off the vibe of a man who was going to seed, but had done his best to ignore it. He did not look angry, in fact his green eyes looked rather amused, but Danny heard the doleful sarcasm in his tone.

"Ah, right. We'll get right on that," Sam said briskly giving Tucker a quick nudge and leading the way over to a group of seats near the back. Danny quickly followed suit, sitting beside Tucker.

The classroom was different from Webb's. Smaller, the desks were all separate from each other, placed in perfect rows. At the back, a small library of books adorned several bookshelves, and a single sad looking computer sat on the blacktopped counter at the far left corner. Warm golden light streamed in through the windows all on one side of the room, displaying only a glimpse of half-dried lawn before hitting the black asphalt of the parking lot. Mr. Lancer took a moment to write the name of the course on the board – English 09A – before turning back to the students. He smiled. It looked painful.

"Welcome to English. For those who don't already know, I am Mr. Lancer." He sounded bored, as though he had repeated himself one too many times. "Using short stories and essays as material, you will learn how to write persuasive, expository, and analytical papers. After a final project in which you will summarize your favorite story, and persuade me to like it too we will move onto poetry. Any questions?"

Danny glanced around the classroom. He could tell that Mr. Lancer had already lost several students. Dash was gazing at a spot just above Mr. Lancer's shoulder looking glassy-eyed, and a blonde girl in front of him – Star, he thought was her name – texted rapidly from under the table. Mr. Lancer didn't seem to care though, as though he had fully expected this. He continued in the same droll, though his eyes now flickered to only to the students still paying attention, skipping over the others.

"Tonight I want you all to write a paper about yourselves, it should be easy enough." This woke several students up with a groan. Mr. Lancer gave a half-smile, a genuine one. "Yes, homework the first night is so horrible, but it lets me know where you all stand. You may use the remainder of the class to create your outlines. Who knows, some of you might even get the essay finished."

And with that he sat down, pulled out a book, and ignored the class. There was a general murmur of discontent as everyone pulled out binders and pencils, but within ten minutes the side chatter had returned with reinforcements.

"Argh, do I have to put something about my parent's obsession?" Danny asked, frowning at his messy web-plot.

"I am," Sam said with a shrug. "It's kind of a part of you, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but…"

"Danny, look, he probably already knows. You can write about how living with your parent's _eccentricities_ has been a difficult thing to overcome."

Danny nodded, his expression grim. "And how their reputation is tarnishing my own?"

"Yeah."

"That sounds all right." He sighed. "What are you centering yours around?"

Sam laughed. "Isn't it obvious? My parents' refusal to accept my unique individuality and constant attempt to conform my person into another mindless robot."

Tucker – who had been staring at a blank page for quite some time – slammed his pen down, looking agitated. "English majors, please, help the technology geek. "

Danny laughed. "Write about that."

Tucker frowned. "Easier said than done. Just help me get a thesis."

"Okay, okay." Sam paused, apparently mulling something over. "How about, your obsession with technology has been signed off as a phase and has been underappreciated by your parents?"

"No… my parents are totally cool with it."

"Well," Danny said grinning. "You could always write how about technology has prevented you hooking up since you realized girls were pretty." He ducked as Tucker tried to hit him with his PDA, working hard to stifle his sniggers.

"That's not funny, dude!"

"Well, how about this," Sam broke in quickly, though Danny saw the amusement in her eyes. "Technology has both accelerated your thinking, and hurt your social relationships."

"That sounds… all right."

"But that's—ouch!"

Sam had kicked him under the desk. Danny shot a glare at her, to which she merely grinned innocently – it looked more like a warning smile, to tell the truth – and he sighed. Tucker didn't seem to notice the exchange. He had bent back over his spiral so close that his nose nearly touched the paper, writing the idea down. It was the same thing he'd said, just said _nicer_. Danny knew that Tucker would probably realize it about nine and then try to feverishly think of a new topic before turning in a very hasty paper.

He nearly smiled at the thought of it.

He had just been about to resume tackling his own paper when a loud annoying, almost siren-like sound blared through the halls. Above the doorway strobe lights flashed, and everyone jumped. Several girls screamed. Mr. Lancer seemed to wince slightly as Dash leapt to his feet and started demanding what was going on.

"Is it a fire?" Dash yelled, covering his ears with his hands. "What's going on?"

"Everyone! Please remain calm," Mr. Lancer said in a fairly bored tone. Danny was beginning to wonder if there was anything that could actually surprise him. "We are experiencing a Lock-down."


	3. Lockdown

**Author's Note:**

Okay. I was getting bored from the in-action and daily conversation in the previous chapters – and chances are, so were you my lovely readers. Therefore, I threw in fantastic conflict!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three<br>****Lock-down**

"_We are experiencing a Lock-down."_

Danny was no stranger to drills. Chances were, no kid was. He understood that they were necessary, that the administration would want to be sure they could maintain order during a real emergency. He acknowledged that every teacher probably thought them tedious, and that every student loved the chance to get out of class. As for himself, he secretly hoped the school was on fire every time the horn blared and those lights flashed.

But lock-down drills were a little different. The objective wasn't to get out of the school, but to get _down_. Mr. Lancer managed to get the class to calm down somewhat and instructed them all to get onto the ground, out of sight of any windows and stay quiet. That was the most important part.

Stay _quiet_.

As if freshmen on the first day of school that had just been caught in a surprise lock-down drill could actually _be_ quiet. Mr. Lancer didn't seem to particularly mind the whispers though – which had been what lead Danny to assume this was a drill, and not the real deal. Even a teacher driven mad by the monotony of high school would show _some_ sort of worry if they had been in actual danger.

"So, drill?"

Danny turned to Tucker who was lying in an odd position underneath two desks and nodded.

"Drill."

Sam made a noise that sounded between a snort and an eye-roll – if rolling your eyes could actually make a sound, that is. "Of course it's a drill," she whispered. "If it was real Mr. Lancer would be hiding on the ground like we are."

The teacher in question was walking among them, berating them if they talked too loudly. Tucker sighed heavily, and voiced the same thing Danny was thinking.

"I hoped it was real."

"Of course you were. And if someone actually got hurt how bad would you feel?'

"As long as it wasn't me? Great! Some excitement for this town."

Danny laughed, quickly turning it into a hacking cough as Mr. Lancer glanced at him. He wouldn't have been surprised if Lancer too secretly hoped for the drill to be real – he had that look about him. He turned back to Sam. "So, what happens now?" he asked.

"Well," Sam said. "They are going to call the police, have them do a sweep of the school, and then probably take us to an assembly to tell us how we did. They might even tell us what to do for other drills so we don't have to do those too." She shrugged. "They're probably working it into the welcoming assembly, that's why they did on the first day."

Danny found that he had been nodding much longer than was necessary. "Right," he said ignoring the raised eyebrow he was receiving from Tucker. "How long do you think that'll take?"

Sam grinned. "I think we're going to miss Math."

"That makes this the best day ever."

"As long as we don't miss lunch, I'm okay." Tucker massaged his stomach rather comically. "I'm starving!"

"Perhaps it would be prudent for you to eat a larger breakfast, Mr. Foley."

All three of them jumped. During the course of their conversation, Mr. Lancer had made his way toward their group until he was right next to them. Tucker flushed and mumbled something about being needing lots of protein before lapsing into silence.

"Now, maybe this time would be better spent working on your paper's instead of chattering."

Danny watched as Sam lifted her chin. "I'm confident with my paper," she said. "The topic is something I'm familiar with after all."

For a second, Danny swore he saw a smile tugging at the man's lips. "We'll see tomorrow, after they're graded."

As he walked away, Danny nudged her, smirking. "Now you've got to prove yourself."

"Nope. This is a piece of cake."

Danny exchanged skeptical brows with Tucker. "Just so long as you don't drag us into it," Tuck added looking grim. "Now, let's kill some time."

They played Tuckers version of Tick-Tack-Toe, refitted for three people for what felt like hours, but only came up to ten minutes. Danny briefly considered actually working on his essay, but he barely got three sentences in before he gave up the endeavor. He couldn't think straight. He engaged Tucker in a furious thumb-wrestling match, which resulted in Tuck's victory. Sam then suggested they try to guess what their classmates were thinking, but that quickly became annoying. They'd been sitting there for nearly half-an-hour when Danny finally realized Sam had yet to tell them about her holiday.

"So, how was the family?" he asked, trying hard not to look _too_ pleased at her discomfort. She glared at him anyway.

"Horrible." And she launched into a retelling of a picnic that resulted in several rows, a broken vase, and Kool-Aid all over the car. "Jeffery – that's Dad's cousin once removed – got all offended after Mom said he couldn't ask me out. Then Aunt Marie wanted to take me to Victoria Secrets to try and open up my inner woman. And—"

"Hold it," Danny said abruptly. "Jeffery wanted to date you?"

"Yeah…"

"But you're family!"

"Yeah, I didn't know you're from the South," Tucker said smirking.

Sam sighed. "Jeffery's a good guy. He's just _not all there_, if you catch my drift. Anyway, after my Mom forced me to wear a pink-tee I snuck away with my Grandmother – you know, the one who lives with us – and in a sprit of rebellion, got my hair done and bought the contacts."

Tucker whistled. "That must have been an interesting night…"

"Yup." She grinned rather evilly. "But totally worth it."

Something caught Danny's attention then. At first, he thought he was having an incredibly lucid hallucination, brought on by sleep deprivation. He coughed, the sound weak as though he were strangling.

"Dude, are you okay?"

He felt Tucker nudge him. Unable to form any words to quite describe the horror of the situation, Danny merely nodded toward the window and the parking lot beyond, a groan of utter despair leaving his lips. There, parked in such a way that it occupied three parking spaces and a patch of yellow grass, was the _Fenton Family Assault Vehicle. _He'd forgotten about his parent's nasty habit of turning on the Police Scanner. He felt a reassuring hand on his back and his mood slipped further. Great. Well, at least they knew how _bad_ this was going to turn out.

"Look on the bright side, we won't be having anymore drills after this."

Danny did not acknowledge Tucker's words. He didn't really have the time to do so. Out in the hallway, there was a thunderous yell that was amplified by a mega-phone. Danny recognized his father's voice and tried to disappear through the wall via osmosis.

"Everyone remain calm! It's no match for my ecto-pulse obliterator! This is Jack Fenton, keeping your hallway's safe!"

Following this little introduction – which mortified Danny – there was a loud bang, shaking the walls. There was perhaps a split second wherein the entire class remained absolutely still before, as a single tidal wave of flesh, they fled for the door and out into the hallway. Mr. Lancer started shouting for everyone to get back into their seats, but for all the good it did, he might as well have burst into flame. Danny shot a glance that was shared between Sam and Tucker before following them into the chaos that had become the hall.

Several lockers had been thrown wide open, some of their doors indented strangely. A flurry of loose paper, pencils, and the occasional apple-core littered the ground. The scent of slightly burnt ectoplasm filled Danny's nostrils – a combination of burnt hair, cinnamon and freshly made gelatin. And there, looking absolutely ridiculous – Danny was fairly sure that was the general opinion – were his parents, dressed in their florescent spandex. His father was holding a large gun that was smoking at the end, and wearing an expression of deep frustration and despair. His mother was spinning an odd gadget above her head like a lasso, though she quickly put it away at the sight of the forming crowd.

"Fudge-nutters!" His father yelled, glancing at Maddie. "It got away!"

Danny took great care to stay out of their sight by retreating to the back of the crowd. As though sensing his need to stay hidden, Sam and Tucker stood in front of him, blocking him from view. He couldn't see the scene very well now – the price one pays for invisibility, he supposed – but his mother's voice was clear over the whispers that had begun.

"Children, return to your classrooms immediately!"

"Don't say it, don't say it," Danny chanted under his breath.

"We have _ghosts_ in the building!"

Danny closed his eyes, several choice swear words rising to the surface of his mind. Why on Earth _would_ they think that there was a ghost? Ghosts did _not_ exist. Why couldn't they just accept that fact and get on with their lives? As these thoughts were forming, the teachers converged, pushing past the students.

"What's going on?"

Danny recognized Webb's voice. He peaked around Sam's head, catching sight of her. Her arms were folded, her eyes narrowed. Mr. Lancer was similarly glaring at the pair of them. In fact, all the teachers looked shocked and angry except for one man. He gave off a certain air of superior intellect, from the creases in his stern face, to the gleam in his wizened grey gaze. He leaned upon a wooden cane in almost lazy respect, while giving no indication that he actually required the assistance. Grey eyes observed the scene before him with almost calculated amusement. It was rather strange, to tell the truth.

"You have an ecto-breach here in the mathematics wing!"

"This is the English department…"

"We strongly recommend that everyone return to their classrooms and wait until we declare the coast clear!"

At that moment Maddie looked straight at him. Danny ducked a second too late. "Hi Sweetie, how's your first day going?"

Danny dearly wanted to reply that it had suddenly taken a turn for the worst, but his voice wasn't working. Everyone had turned to look at him, and he heard laughter rippling through the crowd. His face flamed with color, his fists clenched. He didn't answer her, and her smile faltered slightly.

"Mr. and Mrs. Fenton," It was Webb again. She looked nearly as appalled as Danny felt. "This was a faculty organized drill. Mr. Worth," she nodded toward the man with the cane, "Is in fact the one who figured the specifics. I ask you to please leave before you do any more… damage." She glanced at Danny and he felt a surge of gratitude toward her.

Maybe she knew what if felt like to have embarrassing family members.

Maddie and Jack looked between themselves before sheepishly stowing their weapons. "Right, sorry about that," his mother offered. The man with the cane – Mr. Worth – stepped forward and Danny noticed that he was dressed rather oddly. He wore a vintage brown tweed waistcoat and a loosened tie, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up. His dark gold hair was long and tied at the back with a ponytail, though his beard had been trimmed to a respectable length.

"Perhaps," he said in a deep silky voice, "I will share with you the dates of future drills."

Something in the way that he said that, made Danny think he wouldn't tell them _all _the dates. His parents didn't seem to notice though, and after a minute of awkward silence, they turned and left, his father muttering something about cookies. Danny couldn't believe his luck. It was the first day of school, and his reputation was shattered. Now, he would become the kid with the freak parents.

And high school had looked so promising.

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>"C'mon Danny, it could've been worse."<p>

"Oh yeah, how?"

It was lunch, after the assembly. Sam had been very right in saying they would miss math to sit through a welcoming ceremony, but somehow Danny didn't consider this a blessing. If anything, it seemed the universe had decided to use the moment to say, "Math isn't _that_ bad, now is it?"

Perhaps the worst part of it all was the fact that the memory of his parents attacking the _lockers_ was still very fresh in everyone's minds. At least Danny wasn't the only one suffering. Jazz, he noticed, had skived off the assembly entirely, but she was still considered the smartest girl in school. Mom hadn't managed to ruin _her_ reputation. His reputation hadn't even had time to form! The instant he'd walked into the gym the laughs and sniggers had begun. As he passed by his classmates to sit on the bleachers, Star remarked loudly how his parents had never come to a drill before he arrived.

And everyone else jumped on the bandwagon.

"Well…" Sam seemed to falter. "The teachers could've mocked you too."

_Wow. Really?_ Danny rolled his eyes and she grimaced. Tucker slapped him on the back, heaving a sigh.

"It'll blow over soon enough."

Danny nodded glumly. "And what little chance at popularity I had will be ruined forever."

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"I said what _little_ chance."

"Oh, who cares Danny? Why do you want to be popular anyway? You have to like all the right bands, wear the right clothes. It stamps out individuality and turns teens into mindless zombies who soak in the bureaucracy without a second thought!"

Danny didn't answer. He knew Sam had a point, but that didn't lessen the appeal of it all. He liked them a lot, they were the best friends a guy could ever ask for, but there was something about having a large group of friends he coveted. He wanted to be _included_, be invited to all the awesome parties. He knew Tucker felt somewhat similar – he'd told him over the phone a few nights ago. Sam just couldn't understand their need to _conform_, so he merely nodded and returned to his turkey and cheese sandwich to avoid saying anything. But, he never got a chance to take a bite.

"Hey Fen-turd!"

Something hard and decidedly slimy collided with the back of his head. He had no doubt that it was what the lunch lady called _food_ and turned, stunned to look at the student that had decided to _throw_ it at him. Danny would've rolled his eyes had he gotten over his shock.

Dash. _How_ did he not see this coming?

It was unavoidable, expected even. Beginning sometime through middle school Dash Baxter had settled upon a career of bulling and no amount of counseling or parent-teacher conferences had changed his mind. One could therefore assume that Danny would make his way onto his list of _targets_ eventually. He was thin, shorter than most of the girls and smart enough to scrap decent grades in all his classes – with the exception of mathematics. And then, he had freaky ghost-hunting parents. It was a no brainer, really.

He had hoped he'd wait until after the first week of school, though. At _least _the first day.

With a grimace he touched the back of his head, wiping the _crap_ away. He met Dash's gaze, totally perplexed. What did his _abnormalities_ have anything to do with lunch? Dash seemed to falter for a moment, but the next second he was grabbing another handful of the _slop_.

"Maybe if your parents hadn't delayed lunch this would taste better."

It was such a stupid reason Danny couldn't even think of how to counter it. Even his friends seemed to have temporarily become speechless, unable to quite understand how such a person could _function_. He ducked as another wad of the unidentifiable lunch food came flying for him, hitting the lunch wall opposite him with a sickening slap.

He was just taking advantage of the first real opportunity to make fun of him in front of everyone – which, by the sound of laughter beginning to rumble through the lunchroom, was working. Danny clenched his fists, getting jerkily to his feet.

"Dash I—"

"Well, isn't this _very_ interesting."

Danny's furious retort cut-off mid sentence as he whirled around to see Mr. Worth leaning casually against the cafeteria door, appearing only mildly surprised to see the confrontation before him. The spectators fell silent, though Dash immediately pointed at Danny.

"He started it, he—"

"What?" Danny shouted drowning him out. "You—"

"My eyes function quite fine, I assure you." His tone had a touch of impatience. He glanced at Danny, before turning quite abruptly to the door. "Mr. Fenton, follow me."

"Mr. Worth you can't possibly—" Sam began but she fell silent at a mere glance from him. He had an interesting effect on the students, even Sam – who Danny knew never had any problem speaking her mind to adults – seemed unable to say anything. Dash actually looked at war with himself.

"Mr. Fenton?"

A distinctive frown on his face, Danny crossed to him in a few short strides and followed him out into the hall. They walked slowly, every left step punctuated by the thud of the cane hitting the floor. For several minutes, Mr. Worth didn't say anything, merely leading the way down the hall. Danny followed in silence, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Do you believe in ghosts?"

The question had come so out of nowhere that Danny was caught off guard.

"What?"

"Do you," Mr. Worth repeated glancing at him now. "Believe in ghosts?"

Danny stared at him for a moment. "No," he finally said.

"Why not?"

"Why?" Danny repeated blankly. They'd stopped outside the boy's locker rooms. "Well, they're only stories."

Mr. Worth seemed to find this highly amusing. He chuckled, the done dry and smooth. "Coming from one who lives with ghost hunters."

Danny frowned. "Are you going somewhere with this?" he asked slowly.

Mr. Worth chuckled again, apparently having decided to ignore his question. "Take a shower, Mr. Fenton. The coleslaw will leave a lingering scent in your hair otherwise." He turned to leave.

"Wait," Danny called. This was freaking him out slightly. "You talked to my parents, didn't you?"

"I did indeed."

"Did they say they saw a ghost?"

His smile widened. "What do you think they saw, Mr. Fenton?"

A pause. "Nothing. Their own imagination."

"Really?"

"What?" Danny said, giving a nervous laugh. "You think they actually saw something?"

"It's something to consider." He started walking down the hallway. "Do the presence of footprints imply a passing, or a standing?"

And so Danny was left feeling extremely confused.

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p><em>Thwack<em>.

Iron hammer collided with sheetrock, a cloud of white dust filling the air of the subterranean lab. It had been modified from the original basement of the house, added onto, and fortified. Thick sheets of metallic alloy coated the walls and floor, giving it a cliché futuristic feel. Danny found the place fairly creepy, from the shiny walls to the beakers of slimy green ectoplasm. But, for once, he didn't mind being down here.

He got to knock a hole in the wall. And heaven knew that was a great way to release frustration.

Danny had known that life in high school would eventually take a steep dive down – it _was_ after all, avoidable – but he had hoped it would wait until after the first day to do so. He blamed his parents, blamed their sick obsession with ghosts. Why _had_ they shown up at school? Why had the conspired to ruin his life?

_Thwack._

And he was still helping them with their blasted experiments! That mere fact nearly made him throw down the hammer in disgust, but something stayed his hand, something other than merely taking advantage of this chance to destroy something. He shivered, and swung the hammer again, his brow creasing with thought. Mr. Worth's question was rising to the surface of his mind again, bothering him.

Do the presence of footprints imply a passing, or a standing?

_Urgh!_ That didn't even make sense! And he didn't even know why he wasn't telling Sam and Tucker about it. He'd returned to them only after lunch had ended and answered in monosyllables – causing any conversation to quickly die out. He'd been grateful when they'd finally stopped trying to make him feel better about the whole thing. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. He shouldn't be mad at them; they had only been trying to help. And he'd never told Sam about her surprise. And he'd blown off hanging out with them after school.

_Thwack_.

Some friend he was.

"Danny?"

Danny stopped in the middle of another attack on the wall, the voice of his sister interrupting his thoughts. He didn't say anything for a moment, then finally… _Thwack_.

"What?"

"I know you're upset at mom and dad, but you should—" Great. She was going to get all psychological on him. He did _not_ need this right now.

"What?" he cut her off sharply, dropping the hammer and turning to face her. "Forgive them? See it from their perspective? How about they see it from mine, huh?"

"Danny… I know what you're—"

"Going through?" Danny laughed, a harsh mirthless sound. "Yeah, right! You weren't hit over the head with coleslaw at lunch, were you?"

"Danny—"

"Jazz, I really don't want to hear it." Silence. "I'm cold and I've got homework. I'm going to my room."

He brushed past her on the way up the stairs. He half expected her to grab his arm, but she didn't. She just stood there, watching him go with that look in her eyes, the look that meant she'd failed to do what she'd originally intended. He shut the door behind him a little harder than necessary, startling his mother who was reading at the kitchen table.

"Hey, Sweet—"

She stopped at the look on his face. She bit her lip then stood up, crossing the table over to him. "You know we love you, right?"

"I know." _But you got a funny way of showing it._

Something of those thoughts must've shone on his face because she suddenly hugged him. He tried to remain stiff, but he couldn't. He hugged her back, burying his face into her shoulder.

"Today… was awful," he said, and though the words were muffled against the cloth, she heard them. She was silent for a moment before she broke the hug and looked him in the eye with those light brown eyes of hers. He could see her regret, but there was something else there.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, but we needed to go in."

"Why?" he knew his tone was angry. "It was only a drill!"

"We weren't going to, but we picked up some ecto-static and—" again she cut off. Danny let out a yell of frustration, ignoring his mother's reproachful, "Danny!"

"They don't exist mom!" he started pacing. "Ghosts aren't _real_."

"Honey… they do."

"… I'm going to bed."

Danny turned sharply and left the kitchen. His head was starting to pound. How he was going to write Lancer's essay, he had no idea. He was angry and confused. He knew his parents weren't stupid – at least, he knew his mother wasn't. And yet she believed in something she'd never seen. She didn't even believe in God, but she believed in a afterlife. Where was the logic in that?

He kicked his desk as he passed it, and sat in the creaky chair, putting his head in his hands. He stayed like that for nearly an hour, trying to think of nothing, but something always surfaced. And that something was always ghosts. When he could no longer feel his fingers, there was a knock at his door and someone entered.

"Sweetie?"

He didn't reply, he didn't look up. Footsteps sounded as his mother crossed the room. He felt the warmth of her hand on his shoulder, the groan of springs as she sat on his bed. She didn't speak for several moments, leaving the silence to grow until one could actually feel it.

Finally, with a bit of a laugh in her voice, she said "I remember when you would go hunting with us. We'd give you the smallest gun, and you'd shoot at anything that looked suspicious."

Danny looked up.

"And," she continued with a sad smile, "You always wanted to help with the experiments. Even after that hospital visit."

"Mom…"

"And you would always sneak out with a flash-light, trying to find one. But you were just happy with the idea of them. Not like Jazz. She wouldn't believe it unless it was right in front of her."

Danny swallowed. He'd wanted to believe in their existence so much. Now, all he wanted was for his family to be _normal_, for them to have _normal_ conversations that had nothing to do with specters and apparitions. "I was a little kid. I don't believe in them anymore."

Maddie Fenton glanced at the window, looking out into the starry sky above. She gave a gentle sigh and looked back at him.

"You don't have to. They believe in you."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

Reviews fill me with joy. Drop one!


	4. Belief

**Author's Note**

Well, aren't you guys lucky? While everyone else is deciding to put off fanfiction in favor for Nanowrimo, I have decided to make this my project! That's right, you will be receiving 50,000 words by the start of December! So, you should be getting a new chapter every three days. But, don't get your hopes up too _high_... I'm still in college, so I'll be doing my best with the limited time I have.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four<br>Belief**

_Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen._

Hebrews 11:1

* * *

><p>"<em>They believe in you."<em>

Thinking back, it had started the instant his mother uttered those words. Words that seemed so harmless and yet chilling at the same time. He would trace the incidents that led to his life forever changing back to that moment. The moment where his resolve that it was all merely a farce slip_._ Only a moment of doubt, of hope, of _fear… _but it was all it needed.

The phrase festered in the back of his mind for hours after his mother left, as he started and finished his English essay. Staying with him as he lied in wake, his mind pondering over the words, over their implications. They ran in circles around in his head, snuffing out sleep, blocking out any other ideas.

He allowed the possibility to worm its way into his heart. He had lowered the walls for a split second, had dared himself to hope for an instant. He spent hours trying to patch the breech, repair the damage. But it was already too late. It was all it needed.

It was all _they_ needed.

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>Danny wasn't aware that someone was nudging him for several seconds. The glassy film vanished from over his blue gaze, the English classroom coming back into sharp focus. With a start, he realized that the rest of the class had turned in their seats to stare at him, Mr. Lancer looking tired and expectant. It was obvious he had just been asked <em>something<em>, but Danny had absolutely no idea what. He felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment, the back of his neck grow hot and uncomfortable.

"Er… what? Sorry." He muttered amid a ripple of chuckles from his classmates. He chanced a glance toward his friends and regretted it instantly. Tucker watched him with something akin to worry – Sam practically radiated with concern. They'd both been that way since he'd seen them this morning. As though he were a time bomb about to go off at any moment. And he was fairly sure his episodes of spacing out weren't helping his case of "Really, I'm fine," at all.

At a clear of the throat, Danny's attention darted back to Mr. Lancer. "Now that you have been brought back down to earth," he drawled and Danny cringed as another wave of laughter hit him, "Would you care to read some of your essay?"

Danny spluttered for a moment. "M-my essay?" He repeated nervously. He really hadn't planned on sharing and had been, in his opinion, a little too honest in it. "I'd rather not," he said flushing again. He caught Tucker's sympathetic grimace from the corner of his eye.

"He doesn't have to share, Mr. Lancer," Dash said loudly. "We already know his parents are bunch of—"

"Thank you, Mr. Baxter," Mr. Lancer cut off sharply. He looked back at Danny. "Just a paragraph, if you please, Mr. Fenton."

There was no room for argument. Danny looked down at the essay he had laid across his desk and searched for a non-embarrassing piece he would be willing to share. After a moment of extremely tense silence – at least, for him – he cleared his throat.

"Uh… I'm a local here, in Amity Park. Been here my whole life. Maybe that's why I can't wait to get out into the world, as far as I can get. I want—"

Danny felt his throat constrict and he stopped reading, panic at sharing his thoughts with the people that had laughed at him making him stop. He didn't want this bunch – aside from Tucker, Sam, and Mr. Lancer – knowing his thoughts. It just felt too _open_. He simply didn't trust them with these little pieces of him. He already felt like he'd given away too much, been _too_ open with people he didn't even like. Mr. Lancer seemed to sense this since he had already moved on to another student, allowing him to escape the attention.

"You okay, dude?"

Danny rolled his eyes. "Tucker, I'm fine," he muttered while Star read about being on the cheerleading team and makeup brands she liked. "I didn't get enough sleep, that's all."

"You sure?" Sam asked, still looking at him with the same concerned gaze. He wished she'd stop.

"C'mon guys, I was only hit in the head with coleslaw yesterday. It washed out. I've had worse before. I'm telling you, I'm fine."

"But yesterday…"

"I know," Danny grimaced. "I'm sorry for blowing you guys off."

"That's not it." Sam glanced at Mr. Lancer and lowered her tone further. "Your mom called me last night."

Danny stared at her. "What?"

"Yeah, just after dinner."

"What did she say?"

"How on earth did she get your number?"

"Tuck, that's not the point!" Danny nodded for Sam to go on.

"She said that you'd been pretty angry that they'd come to school."

"Right," Danny sighed, running a hand through his black hair. "Sam, we just had a little fight." He frowned as he remembered his raised voice.

"Sam, what did she actually say?" Tucker asked.

Sam was silent for a moment, then, "I think I really embarrassed Danny yesterday at school, and he's more upset by it then he lets on. Will you and Tucker keep an eye on him for me?"

Danny stared. "So, that's why you're all worried?"

"Not me, dude," Tucker cut in with a grin. "I just know being bullied sucks."

"Tuck, we've been bullied since sixth grade."

"Doesn't make it any more fun."

"Look, Sam, Tuck, I only told her that I thought their obsession with ghosts was stupid… just better phrased."

At this, Sam glanced down and raised an eyebrow. "Oh really," she said causally. "Why do you have a paranormal book in your backpack then?"

Danny spluttered and looked down as well. _Paranormal Phenomena _stared back at him, its midnight blue cover twinkling up at him. He most certainly had _not_ put that there. Or had he? Maybe he's been so lost in thought about the subject that he'd slipped it in unconsciously. "Uh…" He scratched the back of his neck.

"Hm?" Sam was smirking at him.

"Just something my mom said."

"Which would be—?" Tucker prompted.

Danny grimaced. "I-I told her that I didn't believe in ghosts and she said that I didn't have to. They believed in me." It was weird, the effect these words had on him. The instant they had left his lips a chill coursed through his body. It was as though the entire room had gotten colder, but no one seemed to notice it except for him. That itself made the sensation that much more ominous, more concerning. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He couldn't overthink it; that was dangerous.

It was silent for several minutes between them, then…

"You know," Sam said. She was looking thoughtful, if a bit hesitant. "I think it would be cool if ghosts existed."

"I didn't say that it wouldn't be," he answered slowly. "But that doesn't change the fact that they don't."

"Maybe…"

"Maybe?"

"Well, I mean," Sam shrugged. "What got your parent's obsessed with them in the first place? They had to have seen _something_ that they couldn't explain. And c'mon, you are constantly exposed to ectoplasm. What is that stuff it it's not ghost… whatever it was you said before?"

Danny swallowed and looked down at his desk. It was coming back, the same feeling he'd had after his mother had first said those words. The _hope_ that it might be true, but this time the idea wasn't immediately crushed down by his subconscious. Sam had a definite point, what was that green glowing stuff if not ectoplasm? No. He nearly kicked himself. It was just chemistry, not ghosts, that made the stuff. He was letting his mind, his excitement run away with him again.

"Sam, I want to believe that they are real, more than anything, but they're not. Okay?"

"Don't you think you're—"

Whatever Sam was trying to say was drowned out when Mr. Lancer called toward them to stop talking. After that, they didn't have another chance to continue the subject as Mr. Lancer made both Sam and Tucker share their papers and they didn't want to risk getting into more trouble. Danny did cast several curious looks in Sam's direction though, unable to stop himself from thinking about what'd she said, his counter-argument loosing some of its stamina.

_They believe in you._

No. Don't think about it. He'd already spend way too much time mulling it over and, if he weren't careful, it would drive him mad. He couldn't let it. He didn't want to go mad like his folks, did he? He couldn't let it get to him. It wasn't true, and eventually his parents would see that.

"Danny. It's time to go."

"Wha—right." It'd run away with him. _Again._ He shoved his books back into his bag and followed Tucker to the front of the class where they were handing Mr. Lancer their papers. He held out his, but Mr. Lancer didn't take it. He merely glanced at him before accepting a paper from a classmate behind him.

"Mr. Fenton, please stay a few minutes after class."

Danny stared at him. "But math—"

"Mr. Worth will be satisfied with a note."

Danny, perplexed as to why Mr. Lancer wanted to talk to him, could only nod and moved out of line. Sam opened her mouth but Mr. Lancer cut her off.

"Danny will rejoin you in Math, Miss Manson." His tone left no room for argument. Sam frowned but nodded.

"See you, then," she said to Danny with a meaningful expression before proceeding out into the hallway. Something told him that their conversation from before wasn't near finished and he wasn't sure whether that worried or excited him. He _liked_ thinking about the possibility, about the smallest chance that they were in fact real – even if they weren't. Because they didn't exist. They weren't real.

Why did it feel like he was trying to convince himself?

The rest of the class had gone now, and Mr. Lancer was placing the papers in a neat stack on his desk. Now that ghosts had been temporarily swept from his mind, he allowed himself to worry about the reason he had been asked to stay behind. Had his mother said something to Mr. Lancer as well? That seemed unlikely, but not impossible – she had called Sam after all. Or, maybe he was upset that they had been talking in the back of the classroom, rather than pay attention to their classmates.

But he would've asked Sam and Tucker to stay too, then.

When Mr. Lancer didn't say anything, Danny cleared his throat. "Mr. Lancer?" he prompted.

Silence.

"Uh… can I go?"

"Please read the first paragraph to your essay, Mr. Fenton."

"Sir?" Danny said startled. Mr. Lancer merely nodded toward his paper and, feeling increasingly confused, he started reading.

"It's hard to describe exactly what kind of person I am. It's like starting in the middle of a novel and expecting to understand what is going on. But you can't really understand until you've read from the beginning, taken a walk in my past. Maybe then you'll understand why I am the way I am."

Danny paused there, looking up at Mr. Lancer. "Why do you want me to read this?" he asked, his brows furrowing.

"Because," Mr. Lancer replied, and Danny saw the smallest glimmer of a smile on his bored face, "You wouldn't read it during class."

Danny frowned. "I read a little."

"Not enough."

"Aren't you just going to read it while you grade it, anyway?"

"I am," Mr. Lancer took his paper and put it on top his stack. "But you need to hear the tone of the writer in order to better understand their work."

Danny stared at him. "I… that actually makes sense."

Mr. Lancer nodded. He was already scribbling away a note for him. "Normally, I wouldn't give you a second chance to earn participation points. But after yesterday," he trailed off pointedly and Danny nodded. "In the future I expect you to read what you've written."

"Yeah, I'll do that. Thanks." Danny said, relieved.

Mr. Lancer handed him the note, but before he could leave he heard Mr. Lancer call after him. "You have no reason to be ashamed of your work, or your family, Mr. Fenton."

As he left the class, his chest swelled with pride at Mr. Lancer's words, the smile that spread across his face broad. But it wasn't uncalled for. Even from adults, the words that he shouldn't be ashamed of his parents were rare. And he cherished them. It was one of the few things he never told Sam and Tucker. He didn't tell them for any particular reason, just that he knew they wouldn't quite understand what he felt at those instances. And because they were the ones who said it too him most often.

But his happiness was short-lived. The words that had had _made his day_ were knocked out of his mind.

Literally.

He was barely a few feet from the math classroom when something hard collided with his backpack and he was thrown painfully into the locker-lined wall. Before he could regain his composure, someone grabbed the back of his shirt and jerked him forward, bringing him face to face with—

"Dash! What—" The rest of his sentence turned into a grunt as Dash picked him up by the front of his collar and slammed him against the lockers, hard.

"Hey, Fent-turd. Did you know that you were talking while I read my essay? You might've missed the piece where I talked about wailing on puny nerds."

Great. The bullying was raising another notch. He shouldn't have been surprised, shouldn't have been upset, but he was. He was angry. He fumbled with Dash's hand, trying to loosen his grip, but his were too small in comparison.

"Dash, let me go!"

"No, I don't think so."

"C'mon!"

"If you hadn't noticed, Fent-turd, you're a puny nerd. You even have freaky parents."

There was nothing for it. He _had_ to play all his cards. "You didn't used to think they were freaky," he muttered coolly.

Dash seemed to pause for a second and Danny saw a flicker of fear in his eyes. Taking his advantage, Danny went on, "Yeah, your pals don't know that do they? Bet they don't know why you never bullied me before."

"That was years ago." But Danny heard the uncertainty in his voice.

"Yeah? Think that matters? Everyone still remembers when Nathan threw up on the bus." It was a low blow, and he knew it. There was no way anyone would forget that, even it if had happened in elementary school. It had been in the middle of a thunderstorm and the bus had started to spin. But he counted on Dash's idiocy to ignore that fact. And to his great relief, he did.

Danny felt his feet touch the ground again and he let out a sigh of relief that was quickly stifled. Dash had grabbed his shoulder, his face too close for comfort. "That was your last free-bi Fenton," he said in a low voice. "You're all out of cards."

"What are you talking about?" Danny said shoving his hand away. "What makes you think that I won't use that dirt?"

Dash smiled. Danny knew that smile, _hated_ that smile. It was the smile that said, _I've won. _"Because, no one will believe you."

"Why not?" But he already knew why.

"Because If I say you're lying, no one will believe you. I'm only letting you go now to respect that dirt."

And with that, he strode away leaving Danny to massage his throbbing shoulder. If it didn't bruise he'd be lucky. Staring after the football player he felt a sudden urge to shout after him, but he quickly smothered the impulse. There had been a time when Dash hadn't hated him, wouldn't have made fun of him, might've listened to him. But that time had long since passed.

Danny grimaced as he re-hoisted his backpack and he was just about to walk into math class when something made him freeze. Very slowly, as though expecting it to disappear when he looked at it, Danny turned to stare at the dent in the locker that had been made when Dash had slammed him into it. It wasn't concern for the school property that made his breathing hitch, made the hair on his arms stand on end.

It was the realization that the lockers in the English wing had been dented in the aftermath of his parents' intrusion. And, he knew they hadn't been previously, nor did his parent's weapons leave dents like that.

Someone or _something_ had been slammed into it. Just like he had.

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>"I told you that your parent's couldn't be completely crazy."<p>

"Sam, I'm not saying anything for sure. I'm just saying—"

"—That you might be wrong?"

It was lunch.

Danny had decided, in the interest of his safety, that it might be better if they went outside to eat. Plus, this way, they could talk about controversial subjects – like ghosts – without the risk of being overheard and ridiculed.

Tucker and Sam had realized something was up the instant they'd seen him walk into math. It hadn't been hard to tell, really. His shirt had been stretched out at the collar so much that it was ruined and his hair had been an even more unruly mess than usual… but his eyes. The dawning realization that had filled their sky-blue color meshed with fear and joy in such a way that he had appeared dazed and panicked.

Luckily, Mr. Worth hadn't question his lateness – the note proving sufficient enough – allowing him to relate to his friends all that had happened during the few minutes of separation, and most importantly, the revelation with the lockers. But, they hadn't had time to really discuss it in class. Mr. Worth didn't seem like the type to tolerate side-chat and they hadn't wanted to test his tolerance.

"No," Danny said as he opened his sack-lunch, "Well, okay, yes."

For some reason, Sam looked a little too happy.

"But, it's only a possibility! It's not even a likely one!"

"Dude. Dents in a locker?" Tucker grinned. "Its hard evidence."

Danny stared at the pair of them. "Why are you so eager to believe it?"

"Why _aren't_ you?" Sam countered, folding her arms. "For the first time, we have some proof that ghosts could exist. I would've thought that you, Mr. I-want-to-believe-they-are real-more-than-anything, would jump right on it."

Danny was silent for a long moment, staring at the peanut and jelly sandwich in his hands. It was true. He _did_ want to believe it, he couldn't believe he'd found this breakthrough; his previous arguments were falling apart. But…

"What if it's not, though?" He said slowly. "What if we're wrong and those dents had been there previously? What if we're just being stupid?"

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Then maybe it's okay to be stupid."

"Thanks Tuck."

"Personally," Sam said. "I'd rather live in a world with ghosts. It'd be so much more fun and mysterious, never knowing whether the shadows are looking back at you or not."

Danny looked up and laughed. "Great, I don't think I'll ever walk down a deserted alleyway again." He sighed and found his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "You don't—" he hesitated.

"Don't what?" Sam was watching him curiously.

He avoided her violet gaze in favor inspecting his shoe. "Don't think we're crazy thinking, you know, that they're real—Ouch!"

Sam had punched his arm. "Of course not!" she said hitting him again. "You might've lost faith, but I didn't! Does that make me crazy? Huh?"

"Wha—? No! Ouch! Absolutely not! Stop hitting me!" Danny found himself laughing.

"You're parent's aren't crazy either!" Smack "You have to let yourself accept the impossible every once and a while." Smack "Just because you can't see it doesn't mean it's not there! You can't see your brain, how do you know it's still there?"

"Okay, I get it! Sorry! Stop it! My arm hurts!" He said between guffaws of laughter. Then Tucker started poking him. Danny looked up, surprised to see an odd dreamy expression spreading across his friend's face. "What?"

"Paulina."

Within an instant, the laughter died and Danny had turned to follow Tucker's eyes. There was a reason for Paulina's popularity, both among girls and boys alike, and that reason was beauty. Her long dark brown hair held a slightly wave to it as it cascaded down her shoulders, the strands pushed away from her face with a clip. A soft complexion and perfect proportions, she looked more like a senior than an incoming freshman.

And Danny had had a crush on her since the seventh grade.

Tucker liked her too. Then again, Tucker liked every girl. Danny didn't quite understand his philosophies on dating, nor did he want to – since it didn't seem to work.

She was carrying a lunch tray to one of the tables, talking with the rest of the cheerleading squad. Danny sighed, his hand popping his chin up. "Paulina," he said in the exact same dreamy tone that Tucker had used not ten seconds ago.

"What do you think she's talking about?" Tucker asked with a silly grin on his face.

"She's probably not talking about anything intelligent." Sam said from behind them. She didn't sound annoyed, merely exasperated so Danny didn't turn around. He had the mind of a teenage boy after all.

"Does it really matter?" he said with a grin.

"Nope."

"Uh… Danny…"

"You haven't even talked to her either, Sam. She might not be as bad as you think."

"You might want to stop ogling her."

"Why?"

"Because Fent-turd, Paulina is off-limits to losers."

Danny choked and whirled around, the blood draining from his face. This was too soon! Couldn't he have given him the rest of the day, at least? It'd barely been a few hours. He scrambled to his feet but Dash was quicker, grabbing him by his already ruined collar and hoisting him nearly a foot into the air.

"H-hey Dash," he said weakly. "Back already?"

"Let him go!" Tucker made a step toward them but was intercepted by Qwan, another member of the football team. He was burly, like Dash, though his face was kinder. Danny always thought that Dash pushed the Asian into his schemes, but he supposed he would never really know.

"Or what?" Qwan said with a raised eyebrow.

"It was just a suggestion…" Tucker said nervously.

"This isn't." Sam had gotten to her feet as well, glaring at the pair of them.

"Yeah, well, who cares what you say?" Dash said dismissively.

"Don't talk to her like that!" Danny snapped, but his anger quailed beneath Dash's malevolent gaze.

"Don't tell me what to do."

"C'mon, Dash," Danny said in an undertone so that the other's wouldn't hear. "I thought you were going to let me off."

"That time. Not for the day." Dash smirked.

The anger swelled within him once more. "What, so that's how little our friendship was?"

"That's how long ago it was."

And then he saw the fist fly for his face.

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>One thing was for sure; his shirt was completely ruined now. His collar was ripped, his front stained with a dribble of blood. A wad of tissue was held firmly against his nose, trying to stifle the flow. He hoped it stopped soon; he was starting to get a little light-headed. The nurse looked worried too, pacing the small infirmary and shooting him questions every few seconds.<p>

"Are you feeling dizzy?"

"Not really."

"Are you feeling nauseous?"

"No."

And so the questions went. She'd assured him that Dash would get punished. Danny didn't believe her. He'd never been punished before now; he knew his parents had some influence in the school, not to mention he was a star athlete. He'd get a reprimand that he wouldn't pay any heed too and then he'd be right back at it. That was what always happened before, in the lower levels of learning.

This wasn't anything new either. He'd been picked on before now, even hit. Never by Dash though, and he'd managed to escape it for a while after what he suspected was Dash's protection. It'd been a weird friendship. No wonder it hadn't lasted.

"I think it's stopped now," the nurse breathed with relief.

Danny checked and sure enough, she was right. He was almost disappointed. It might've been worth getting hit if he'd gotten to ride in the ambulance. Then again, it was very lucky that Dash had only managed to get in one hit before his friends had practically dog-piled him. He had a dim memory of Tucker getting a bloody lip, but he couldn't remember the events that had led up to it.

He'd seen stars for several seconds after that blow. It was amazing his nose wasn't broken. At least, that's what the nurse said, she could be wrong. He wasn't quite sure what her level of expertise was.

Anyway, a teacher had seen the commotion and split it up. As that thought crossed his mind, he looked up. Mr. Worth was watching him from his place against the wall, a strange almost analytical look in his grey eyes. Since asking if he was all right when he'd first brought him in, he hadn't said anything. Just watching him.

He would've thought it weird if he hadn't been bleeding all over the place.

"Do you want me to get your sister?" Mr. Worth asked as the nurse retrieved a new tissue for him to clean himself up with.

"No." Definitely not.

Mr. Worth nodded, as though he had expected this response. After another few minutes of silence – during which Danny set about wiping his hands off while the nurse returned to her computer – he asked, "Have you given any thought about what I said before?"

Danny's head shot up. "Yes." _A lot_.

"And?"

He gaped at Mr. Worth like a fish for a moment, realizing something that had been right in front of him. Why _had_ Mr. Worth talked to him about ghosts? It was so obvious now that he thought about it. "Y-you noticed the lockers too!"

Mr. Worth smiled. "I did, indeed."

"Why—why didn't you say anything?"

"Because you wouldn't have believed me if you haven't figured it out for yourself."

Danny was silent for a moment, his thoughts running a thousand miles per hour again. He hadn't been the only one to consider it. An adult had realized. Sam had been right. Something warm was in his stomach; a burning that was strange but also comfortable. It settled in his heart, an almost childish joy seizing him. It'd been the same thing he'd felt, for just the briefest moment, after his mother had said those words too him.

Belief.

"So, Mr. Fenton do you believe in ghosts?"

"Yeah. I think I do."


	5. A Blow of Air

**Author's Note**

That. Has got to be the fastest I've ever updated a story in my life. Look how lucky you all are! The characters have run away with the story too... I don't know if they'll let me have it back.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five<br>A blow of air**

_The more enlightened our houses are, the more their walls ooze ghosts._

ITALO CALVINO, _The Literature Machine_

* * *

><p>By the time he realized the depth of his growing obsession, it was already too late to pull out. He was sold, completely bought by the idea. And, the worst part was that he wouldn't have traded this revived belief in the paranormal for anything, even the popularity that he dreamed of one day acquiring. Funny how his desire to be normal was what caused him to ignore his hope and childish love for the world that he couldn't see in the first place.<p>

_They_ knew it too. They knew they had completely won him over, had captured his heart and his soul. They would never relinquish their grip on his heart, even when he found out about them – for they knew he soon would. It was impossible for him not to. And they wanted him too.

They wanted him to discover the darkness, the black fear that dwelled with the good. The reasons for the blood curdling screams in the dead of night, the shivers that ran down human spines, the locked doors and salted windows. The reason why some were good with auras of white and why others shrieked their malevolent curses, why they couldn't be killed but could move on, why _ghosts_ were only one side of the coin.

_Thwack!_

"So, does your mom know yet?"

"No."

_Thwack_!

Danny was back at work knocking down the wall in his parent's subterranean ghost lab, this time with renewed excitement instead of grudging reluctance. He'd gotten too it the instant he'd come home from school, not bothering to even change into a work shirt – not that there was any point to that anyway, considering how Dash had destroyed it during the course of the day. As the memory rose to the surface of his mind, he paused his attack on the wall to bring a tentative hand to his slowly purpling nose.

"You're going to have one wicked black eye."

Danny laughed. "Thanks Tuck," he said turning to see his friends. Tucker was leaning against the wall, his smile crooked due to his swelling lower lip. Apparently, Sam had been the only one who'd managed to escape unscathed during the tussle with Dash and Qwan.

"Better than wincing every time you try to eat something."

Tucker's face fell slightly, a pout that was far more pronounced and childish than usual forming. "Thanks, man. And mom's making steak tonight." He looked truly miserable at the thought, causing Danny to chuckle with amusement once more.

_Thwack!_

"So, when are you going to tell her?"

Danny glanced toward Sam, at her smug expression, her folded arms. He frowned, suddenly much more interested in the way the sheet-rock was falling onto the metallic floor, and the brick-lined cavern that opened behind it.

"Not sure."

"C'mon on! You know she deserves to hear it. Especially after your fight."

"Hang on, I'm a little confused," Tucker said holding up a hand. "I thought Danny already told her about the fight with Dash. Except, well, he said it was a volleyball instead of Dash."

"No! Not that," Sam said exasperatedly. "He's supposed to tell her how he was wrong about ghosts _not_ existing."

_Thwack!_

Right. That. Danny had wasted no time in telling Sam and Tucker about his conversation with Mr. Worth in the nurse's office, though they hadn't been as excited by this news as he was. Probably because they had already decided that ghosts existed, regardless of what anyone else thought. As for himself though, it had been nice to know that there was someone other than his parents and his friends that acknowledged their existence. That had noticed the signs of an invisible being and that had settled the matter for him.

He felt like a little boy again, eager to break through this wall and see what mysteries were behind it. It was one of the best sensations in the world, letting go of his frustration at his parent's endeavors and instead joining in on the secret. He couldn't even feel annoyed that Dash had ruined most of the day for him. This was just too big, and it didn't matter that they were alone in their belief.

Because he had finally accepted it as truth.

But he hadn't told his parent's yet.

"I don't want to tell them yet." He kicked a lump of sheetrock out of the way and picked up the hammer again, grimacing as his sore shoulder protested against the movement.

"Here," Tucker said moving forward and taking the hammer from him. "Your parent's said we were allowed down here only because we said we'd help you."

"Thanks," Danny smiled at him and took his position against the wall. "Make sure you stay within that chalk outline my mom's drawn, or she'll have both our heads."

"Right."

_Thwack!_

"Why not?" Sam asked, trying to bring the conversation back.

Danny wiped his hands on his shirt as he answered, avoiding her violet gaze. "I'm just not ready to tell them, you know? Especially not the day after I practically shouted my frustrations at her. I want to wait, tell her when I know it'll make her day."

"I suppose that makes sense…"

"And I want to do a little more research."

Sam let out a snort of laughter. "Of course you do. You want to be able to prove to her that you've actually changed, don't you?"

_Thwack!_

"Well yeah," Danny met her gaze now, a smile spreading across his face. "She'll probably just think I'm saying it in order to make her feel better. She won't believe me. But, if I have some knowledge on the matter… well, that's a different matter entirely." He chuckled. "I'm actually thinking just waltzing up to her and asking her some random question about ghosts, almost as if I've always believed."

"I'd almost pay to see the shock on her face."

"Exactly!" And they both fell into a fit of laughter.

"Hey!"

They looked up to see Tucker already looking tired and covered in white dust. "This is a lot harder than it looks!"

"Isn't it?" Danny said with a smirk.

"Oh, your hilarious. My hands are accustomed to my PDA and other assorted electronics. Not heavy labor."

"You're the one who wanted to help!"

"Only because it was painful to watch you swing this thing!" Tucker shook the hammer toward him.

"Here," Sam sighed, smacking her hands together. "Let me show you dweebs how it's done."

"Did you seriously just call us dweebs?" Danny asked in mock anger.

Sam laughed and picked up the hammer, Tucker taking her seat on top of the tarp covered desk. "Would weaklings be better?"

_Thwack!_

"Hey, I resent that!" Danny said, indignant now, though he was still smiling. He couldn't really be mad after all. It was sort of true. "If you hadn't noticed, I got beat up today."

"Excuses, excuses."

_Thwack!_

"Danny!" his mother's voice drifted from up stairs. "Tucker, Samantha, come up for some sandwiches!"

"Yes!" Tucker beamed and was half-way to the stairwell before Danny or Sam had moved. Sam sighed and leaned the hammer down against the wall, clapping the dust from off her palms.

"He's so easily manipulated by food, isn't he?"

"Yeah," Danny grinned. "You go on up, I'll be there in a sec. Just want to put the bigger chunks in the trash just in case my dad comes down and flips at the mess."

"Haha, yeah, probably a good idea. Hurry up though, before Tucker eats all the turkey ones."

Danny laughed and nodded, bending down to start scooping up the chunks of white material. It was dry and powdery; often crumbling the instant he picked it up. He heard the door to the lab close, a signal for him to hurry up. Tucker really would eat all the turkey sandwiches if he didn't hurry up. He was almost done though.

It felt different down here without his friends, he mused as he worked. Without their presence the joyful atmosphere had vanished. It felt creepy, foreboding almost, like it would walking down a deserted street in the middle of the night. A wave of cold swept over him and he stood bolt up right, breathing quick panicked breaths.

Was he imagining it?

He could feel the eyes on the back of his neck, but he knew there was nothing there. Or did he. A knot formed in his stomach and his hand reached for the comforting weight of the hammer. Was he really alone? Now that ghosts had been brought back into his life, he was willing to pay a little more attention to the prickling hairs on his arms, the cold on the back of his neck. But he could just be over-thinking it, couldn't he? Maybe he was so eager to believe that he was letting his imagination run away with him, creating more clues more proof of their existence. He wouldn't put it past him. He'd never been so happy in his life. It was as though he'd just discovered that the Santa Claus of his childhood was actually real – but that was a bad example since he really _hated_ Christmas. Easter Bunny? No, that was just stupid. Imaginary friend. Yeah, that worked. It was like his imaginary friend had just materialized and become real.

After scanning the empty lab for several seconds, Danny put the hammer down and started picking up the pieces again. Not three seconds later he felt it again, and this time, he _knew_ it wasn't his imagination.

Something or _someone_ was blowing air on his ear.

With a strangled yell, he jumped back, scrambling toward the stairs faster than he would've thought possible. He stopped on the bottom step, his eyes darting wildly around the room, trying to see where _it_ was. He was fairly certain it was a ghost now. There were no windows for drafts to come in, the door had been shut, and his mother was still installing the ventilation system. There was something in the room with him, or was it someone? He nearly hit himself. This was no time to be mulling over which pronoun to use!

"Who's there?" He called out nervously.

No one answered him. Then again, he hadn't expected a reply. Ghosts didn't answer just because he asked them too.

"Why not?"

His hand clamped over his mouth, the numbing shock he felt barely enough to prevent him from screaming. The voice had been high, feminine, with a tone that suggested a broad smile. And also, it had come from right above him. He looked up, cricking his neck in his haste to do so, scrambling away from the spot on his hands and knees.

Wasn't this just a little too ridiculous? He'd only _just_ acknowledged their existence. Barely.

"Ah, but did you forget mummy's words?"

Before he could quite formulate the thought in his mind, his feet had received the signal to run. He could hear _her_ laughter trailing after him, sweet and yet threatening at the same time, like a cat that was playing with mouse before eating it. She was getting closer, following him up the steps. He wasn't going to make it. Three feet away, but she was too fast. Frosty breath feathered across the back of his neck—

He burst through the door, gulping down the warm kitchen air as though he had never breathed properly before. He was dimly aware that his legs were shaking, that three people were staring at him from the kitchen table before him. "I—it— someone—just happened—something—no sorry, I just—uh Sam, Tucker… need word—my room. Now."

He couldn't even form a coherent sentence. Didn't matter though, they seemed to have grasped the gravity of the situation and were already getting to their feet. He half ran, half stumbled through the kitchen and up the stairs, sparing a glance for his mother as he passed her by. She was staring at him with mingled curiosity and alarm.

"Sandwiches. Thanks!" He said, skidding to an abrupt halt, doubling back, and grabbing the plate.

"Danny, what—?"

"Sorry. Forgot something important. _Really_ important. Can't wait. At all." He cut her off, taking the stairs two at a time. If he told her, she'd grab her gun and try to vaporize the thing – which he was against at the moment, liking them existing and all. Sam and Tucker were both looking at him with totally bewildered expressions, but they waited until he had locked his bedroom door behind him before throwing their questions at him.

"Danny, what's going on?"

"What did you forget to do that's really important?"

"Didn't forget, just happened." He took a deep breath trying to organize his thoughts. "You aren't going to believe this." A smile found its way across his face. "Downstairs. Just now, there was a ghost."

This didn't produce the reaction that he'd been expecting. His friends just stared at him before looking at each other and bursting into laughter. Danny couldn't see what was so funny. Although nothing bad had happened, he'd never felt so terrified in his life.

"What's so funny?" he nearly shouted over their uproar. "Don't you believe me?"

"Oh Danny," Sam said wiping a tear from her eye. "I do believe you. I just love how freaked out you are by it!" and she burst into giggles again.

"I—I thought I was dead!" he grumbled which only caused them to laugh harder.

"Just yesterday he was complaining about how he'd never seen any proof," Tucker wheezed, "And then—" the rest of his sentence dissolved as another fit of laughter took him.

"Why aren't you guys freaked out?" Danny asked perplexed by their behavior. How could they take this so casually? He froze, staring at the pair of them. "You guys didn't just master prank me, did you?"

"Oh dude, as much as I wish I could take credit for the look of horror on your face when you came bursting through the door, no." Tucker had finally stopped laughing, though his grin was still broad. "I'm relieved."

"Relieved?"

"Yeah. Here we were, trying to figure out whether or not they were real for _years_, and as soon as we accept the fact they might be, they literally give us proof."

"Just proves," Sam said, tapering off her laughter as well, "You have to take the leap of faith to find the path hidden there."

"Was that a Last Crusade metaphor?" Danny snorted.

"Hey, the principle still applies."

"Well, we have a new problem now," Danny said, the smile falling from his face. Yeah, the definitely had several new problems, but there was one very pressing one.

"And what would that be?"

"There's a ghost in the basement."

Silence. The joyous relief at being told that ghosts exist had ended, snuffed out when the words sunk to a deeper level. Their question had been answered; they could sleep well knowing that their childish beliefs had been fact. Except, they'd probably never sleep well again. When the night writhed with unseen life, how could one ever sleep again?

"What do we do now?

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>The crick in his neck was throbbing now, a side affect from pouring over <em>Specters and Apparitions<em> for the last hour and a half. The passage was incredibly dull and doing nothing to further his current understanding of ghosts. He knew most of this already, just the hearsay that everyone knew. He looked up, seeing Tucker in a state of near-sleep, another one of his paranormal books lying on his lap while Sam clicked away at his computer.

She'd won the rock-paper-scissor match.

Tucker had been all for rushing back down stairs and trying to catch the ghost themselves – providing it was even still there. Danny liked the idea but Sam had squashed it flat.

"We don't even know anything about them. Or how to use any of your parent's technology. Unless you want to tell your parents?"

"No."

"Right, so, then we educate ourselves."

And so the research had begun, but they were having little success. So far, the only real knowledge they'd been able to glean had come from Wikipedia, but even then it was muddled and confused. This came as no surprise, but it was disheartening. Even if so few people believed in them, you'd think some crackpot would've managed to post some genuine data. Danny was starting to wonder whether or not they'd have to ask his parents, since they were the only ghost experts he knew.

He sighed, closed the book with a snap and crossed to his bookshelf. He was just debating whether or not he should sneak into his parent's room and look at his mother's stash of books when an aged volume caught his eye. He knew for a fact that it didn't belong to him, its leather-bound cover frayed and worn. He ran his finger down its spine, a shiver crawling into his hand and up his arm. He retracted it as though he'd been electrocuted.

He stared at it for a moment, heart hammering. How had it gotten there? Had the ghost put it there? He couldn't fathom why, and wondered whether or not he was just unobservant. Maybe his mom had put it there. _Right_. With a great degree of tenderness, he picked up the volume. It felt as though it would fall apart if he held it the wrong way. He walked back to his bed and sat down, opening the cover.

The pages were yellow tinted and heavy, made of something thicker than regular paper. The title was a word he didn't recognize, something he assumed to be old English. It wasn't hard to figure out what it was alluding to though. Danny swallowed and flipped to the first chapter, wondering why the room had suddenly gotten so cold. He knew before he even started reading that he had struck gold; that the information they sought was contained within its stained yellow pages.

_A ghost is the soul of a human or an animal that is trapped in The Ghost Zone. _

"Hey Sam, Tucker? I think I found something."

"You sure?" Tucker asked sleepily. "Not another 'I saw a visage of my dead husband' is it?"

"No, I think this is a legit encyclopedia." Danny glanced back at the page. "Here, listen to this:

_A ghost is the soul of a human or an animal that is trapped in The Ghost Zone. The reason for this varies widely, depending on the soul in question and the manner of their death._

"Ghost zone?" Sam said, glancing back at the computer. "I came across that term… one second." A few feverish clicks later, she turned back to them grinning. "Apparently it's a parallel world, one that we can't see and can't touch. There are natural portals to it though, like the Bermuda Triangle."

"You're getting into conspiracies there," Tucker said with a grin.

"But it makes sense," Sam pressed. "There are tons of unexplainable phenomena, people disappearing and then reappearing several years later."

"Rip Van Winkle?"

"Shut up Danny."

He chuckled and continued perusing the aged text. "This thing talks a lot about the Ghost Zone."

"Does it say anything about ectoplasm?" Tucker asked with a yawn.

"Uh… yeah! Try not to fall asleep.

_Ectoplasm is energy with a life of its own however, it requires the mind in order to organize and become used. It is the substance that allows the consciousness of those dead to materialize and take shape. Demonic in nature, it can either take over the mind of the soul or it can be harnessed and used. Much like chemicals bonding, those souls that are damaged, or being held back to something are more likely to allow the energy to come into them, and give them purpose. This is why a ghost can be exorcised, for after the demonic energy is removed, they become nothing more than wisps of human consciousness. Sometimes they are then able to move on, and other times they just return to the zone to begin the process once again. _

Danny paused, allowing the information to sink in. Thick tangible silence fell between them, bringing with it a wave of freezing air. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, his arms prickled, a shiver rippling down his spine. The paragraph, while textbook dry, stayed in his mind, the words burned across his retinas. Fascinating and malevolent, a warning and mocking sneer that said, _you wanted to know_.

Sam stood, silently making her way over to him her hand reaching for the battered book. Danny gave it to her, his throat too dry for words. Her violet gaze swallowed the page, taking in the information he had read for a second time. When she had finished, she looked up at them both, a new feeling settling in the room. One that gave reason for ghosts being associated with all that was dark and foreboding. And then she opened her mouth.

"Demonic."

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>"I told you to watch the Fenton's, not interact with them!"<p>

A smile. "I couldn't resist."

"Next time you better. His parents may appear to be imbeciles but they are shockingly adapt at hunting your species."

"I beg to differ."

"Well I don't." A sigh, straightening of the collar. "In regards to the other matter, what's the situation?"

The smile fell. "He—he was disinclined to acquiesce to your request."

"You're doing it again."

"Right. He said no… rather forcefully."

A thoughtful silence, rubbing of tired temples. "I suspected as much."

"So, what should I do?"

"Nothing."

"But he's in the school!" A fold of the arms. "He's considerably inhospitable when it—ah, he's not… pleasant."

"He wouldn't be, it's not his nature. He's not like you or me."

"All the more reason to get him out of there."

"Dealing him will… require a certain degree of caution, on our part."

"I don't like this."

"You don't have to. That's why I'm your employer, remember?"

"So you keep reminding me." A pause. "Why is he even here?"

"Because, like you, humans are so easily led astray by the smallest of temptations."


	6. No Downside to Knowledge

**Author's Note**

I'm just flying with updates this week! I feel so accomplished! So, this chapter is a little more explicative than the ones before it. Remember when I asked about the different types of ghosts in an A/N a few chapters back? Well, that gets pretty much all sorted out here.

Please drop a review! Comments, questions, concerns? I'd love to hear it.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>  
>No Downside to Knowledge<p>

"_Oh, very good," interrupted Snape, his lip curling. "Yes, it is easy to see that nearly six years of magical education have not been wasted on you, Potter. 'Ghosts are transparent."_

J.K. Rowling, _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_

* * *

><p>This wasn't what he had wanted.<p>

Diving into the new world of apparitions and spectral mist was supposed to reveal the darkness in the world around him, unveil the mysteries of the shadows dancing across his walls when there were no light to cast them. Expose the secrets and banish the fear, wash away the chills that ran up his arms, drown out the screams that filled the cold night air.

But it didn't.

The connotation changed, it carried a brand new weight. The shadows laughed manically, sneering and caterwauling. The empty room warped and strained, bending as the mind closed down with all consuming fear, with the realization that the darkness was tangible and deadly. An unseen fiend that bore into human minds, that twisted thought, whispered lies. The mystery had deepened. The veil pushed back only revealed the depth of his ignorance, unmasked the extent of what was hiding. There were no simple answers, no comforting thoughts.

There was only truth.

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>"Maybe we should get out while we still can," Tucker suggested weakly, his pale green eyes now eyeing the aged leather book as though it were likely to kill them all. "I-I mean, this is obviously a lot darker than we were thinking so…"<p>

"It's too late, Tuck." Danny clenched his fist and stood. There was no backing down from this anymore. He couldn't go back to his state of unbelief and he wouldn't want to. He had always known that his parents thought ghosts were dangerous, that they were vicious and violent but he'd never quite understood what they meant. _Why_ they meant that. Now he truly realized that they were protecting him and the town.

Sam got to her feet as well. "There's no turning back now," she said flashing a smile toward him. "Honestly, I'm tired of being safe. It's too boring."

"And I can't go back," Danny said, just the mere memory of his previous state of mind filling him with despair. "I can't give this up, not now that I know."

Tucker's gaze flickered from him to Sam, his face pale but resigned. He sighed and then stood, a nervous smile gracing his face. "I don't know if I'm ever going to sleep again."

Danny laughed. "Then we'll be sleep deprived together." He stuck out his hand. Sam put hers on top of his and, albeit with an eye roll, Tucker put his in too.

"We're not going to have to yell something cheesy, right? I don't fancy shouting Ghostfacers or something equally dumb."

And like that the circle fell apart as laughter took them back to the ground. After a few minutes, during which they composed themselves, Danny looked back at the book. "We should probably keep reading. Now that I know how dark this might get, I want to be fully prepared."

Sam grinned. "Sounds good to me." She reopened the volume, flipping through the pages. "There is more than just ghosts in here too. They have explanations for a variety of paranormal creatures."

"Please tell me vampires aren't part of that."

"No, it seems to stay within the realm of creatures found in the Ghost Zone." She paused, the corner of her lips turning down. "It's all the different types of ghosts, and then halfway through it switches to demonology."

"It probably would, if ectoplasm is demonic and that's what ghosts are made of."

"Hm… by the way, Danny are you sure this book is authentic?" She looked up at him. "Cause if it's not—"

"I'm pretty sure it's legit," Danny said paling slightly. He was also fairly sure that the ghost from downstairs had put it on his shelf. He deliberated for a moment, wondering whether or not to share this insight with them. It didn't take long for him to decide – he shared everything with them after all. "After all, I've never seen it before."

"What?" Tucker blanched. "But… I thought it was yours."

"It's not. I just found it sitting there, never seen it before. Pretty sure it's not my mom's either. She doesn't leave books lying around in any case." He shivered, rubbing his arms. "Crap, why is it so cold in here?"

"Dude, its your house."

"Yeah, I know but—" He glanced at the book again. "Ever since I picked up that thing I feel like the temperature dropped ten degrees."

"Maybe she left it."

"What?" Danny looked at Tucker. "Who left it?"

"The ghost." He grinned. "I think you're being haunted Danny."

"I—" Danny spluttered for a moment. Haunted? "Why—what makes you say that?"

"Well, I'm not cold." Tucker's grin widened. "And, she was probably in the basement when we were there, but she waited until we were gone to do anything. She's coming after you Danny."

"Why is that a good thing!" Danny said, wondering why he looked so happy. He wouldn't be this happy if it was him, Danny thought sourly. He had never been so scared in his life. Sure, it had also been the coolest thing ever to happen in his short fourteen years, but terrifying at the same time. What if she had been malevolent? What if she was? Just because she hadn't done anything yet didn't mean she wouldn't.

"You're finally being chased by a girl!"

"Tuck!"

"Stop freaking him out," Sam said, though there was a ghost of a smile about her mouth. "Maybe she wants you to learn about ghosts."

Danny blinked. "Why?"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "They believe in you?" His mother's words rang in the room, descending upon them softly. Danny whitened as he remembered what the ghost had said to him, just before he'd bolted out of the room.

"_Did you forget mummy's words?"_

"But," Danny said, his brows furrowing together. Why would she want him to believe in them? It didn't really make sense to him. And why him in particular? He wasn't anyone special; he was just another high school student. There were probably tons of teens just like him out in the world, so why was it so important that _he_ believed?

Oh.

His parents. Not everyone had ghost hunters for parents. Parents that knew more than they let on about the shadows of the world, who sought to protect others regardless of what happened to their reputation. Not everyone had been exposed to ectoplasm since they could crawl. Ectoplasm. A substance of demonic origin. Was that why? He'd been hospitalized after swallowing some of it before, and been covered in it more times than he could count. Hell, he'd nearly eaten it for breakfast the first day of school. Was that why?

"Ug!" Danny stood up again, pacing the length of his room. "That doesn't make sense! Why would they want me to believe in them? Having ghost hunters for parents should make them want to keep me in the dark, surely? They wouldn't want to risk me growing up to be like them, shooting at them every chance I get."

"Danny, I don't know why." Sam swallowed. "But apparently, they wanted you to believe in them. And, they want you to know about them too. We aren't going to find anything out just sitting here, mulling it over."

"What, so you think we should keep doing what she—they want?"

"Well, I don't see a downside to learning other than knowledge."

Danny nodded, coming to a stop. She was right – she usually was. He was freezing now, but his chest felt warm. He felt pushed to learn more, but doing so felt right. It confused him, made hundreds of unanswerable questions rise to the surface of his mind. But as Sam had said, they weren't going to discover anything if they just thought about it. A resolution forming in his mind, he nodded and turned back to her.

"Start reading, Sam."

It wasn't a command and she didn't take it as one. It was the acknowledgement that this was all they could do, and they might as well do it. With a clear of her throat, Sam bent over the first page.

_A ghost is the soul of a human or an animal that is trapped in the Ghost Zone. The reason for this varies widely, depending on the soul in question and the manner of their death. However, they all have on thing in common. _

_They are not complete._

_This is most obvious in cases concerning vengeful spirits. Having died in particularly violent ways, they are imprinted with the horror of what happened before they passed. They refuse to accept their fate, the fact that their life had been taken from them. They feel as if they need to stay, that they can't leave just yet, whether they wish to extract vengeance on the one who wronged them, protect another, or torment others to their level of misery. They are damaged and wallow in their agony and inability to move-on to the Spirit World– which is called by several different names depending upon the era and religion. _

_As these damaged spirits travel through the Ghost Zone – which is on the path to the Spirit World – they are intercepted by an organism known as ectoplasm. Ectoplasm is energy with a life of its own; however, it requires the mind in order to organize and become used. It is the substance that allows the consciousness of those dead to materialize and take shape. Demonic in nature, it can either take over the mind of the soul or it can be harnessed and used. Much like chemicals bonding, those souls that are damaged, or being held back to something are more likely to allow the energy to come into them, and give them purpose. This is why a ghost can be exorcised, for after the demonic energy is removed, they become nothing more than wisps of human consciousness. Sometimes they are then able to move on, and other times they just return to the zone to begin the process once again. _

_Their usual place of residence is within the Ghost Zone, a parallel universe to the waking world. This zone cannot be reached in any one place, because it expands over everywhere. It is not our world, it exists next it possessing no similarities save that it is a veil that our dead pass through on the journey onward. It is the demon's domain and home, their final attempt to catch the human race in their snare._

Danny closed his eyes as the words washed over him, as the explanations made themselves clear in his mind. A chill ran down his arms as Sam finished the paragraph and he grabbed a blanket from off his bed, wrapping it around his shoulders. The more he heard, the deeper they got themselves into this mess, the more chilled he became.

Then a waft of air passed over the back of his neck, a voice of melody and horror in his ear.

"Enjoying your present?"

He couldn't speak. It was as though his vocal cords had frozen and he was struck with a sudden image of her holding her hand over his mouth. He looked over at Tucker and Sam, wondering how to get their attention. Sam was still reading, but he couldn't focus on the words in his haze of panic.

"Hush," she continued and he could hear the smile that he could not see. "Don't let them know I'm here." There was a warning in her voice, honey sweet but there non-the-less. He looked away from his friends quickly, back to the spot on the floor that he had been staring at while Sam's words washed over him. She chuckled, a soft chiming sound, like glass bells.

"Good boy, Daniel."

How did she know his name? Where ghosts omniscient?

"Funny, but no," she breathed in his ear. "I possess limited telepathy. You'll read about it soon so I won't explain." Her tone switched abruptly, suddenly becoming much more business-like and serious. "I am here in regards to a complication—" She paused a moment. Something was wrong Danny could sense it. He didn't know how, but it was as though he could feel her tensing. "Listen, Danny," she said faster now, hurried. "Don't get caught alone at school."

"What?"

Urgently. "Wherever you go, stay with your friends. Don't get caught alone. Don't be _alone_."

"What're you—"

He was dimly aware that Sam had stopped reading, that she and Tucker was staring at him open mouthed. And then he felt the cold leave him, as though it been blown away. Not three seconds later the door to his bedroom was thrown wide, his mother flipping inside, the ecto-blaster balanced on her shoulder.

"Get away from my son!" she shrieked cocking the weapon. Danny stared dumbfounded at her, fully realizing for the first time why she was so protective. Ghosts were lesser demons and while not all of them succumbed to the ectoplasm that gave them form, most did. He didn't have much time to ponder though, because his mother had just shouted something at him, followed by someone grabbing his arm and jerking him out of the way of a vibrant green blast. He looked up, meeting Sam's pale face.

His mother swore before dropping the gun and rushing over to him. "Are you all right?" she asked, taking his face in her hands, then on his shoulders. "Did it do anything?"

"Mom I'm fine, I—"

"Sweetie, I know you don't believe," his mother caught him off, wrapping him in a bone-crushing hug. Danny felt his heart ache. He could tell her right now, tell her that he did believe, that the ghost had talked to him. But he couldn't. Not yet, she couldn't know yet.

"Geeze mom," he said breaking the hug. "You nearly gave me a heart-attack." He paused, thinking of how to get information without making her suspicious. "Why did you even think there was something up here?" he asked, trying to sound slightly annoyed.

"You wouldn't understand," his mother said sadly. From beside him, Sam cleared her throat, looking nearly as shocked by the whole incident as Danny felt.

"Try us."

Danny glanced at her, the corner of his mouth twitching in a smile. She knew what he was doing. She looked half ready to tell his mother everything though, but she steeled herself and for that he was grateful. Maddie appraised Sam for a moment before saying slowly, and in what seemed to be the simplest terms she could find, "I've been working on an ectoplasmic detection device. It reads the changes in air temperature and density, assessing the probability of an entity occupying space, but not matter."

"That sounds… complicated," Tucker said.

"But why would it say there was something up here? In particular?" Danny asked now even more confused.

"It keys into ecto-signatures," His mother went on. "It's calibrated to ignore matter—don't say it's impossible," she said sharply when Sam opened her mouth. Sam frowned but closed it again. "It sends out waves derived from an ectoplasm base and when it hits something that contains ectoplasmic particles the wave bounces back, indicating where it is. It's based on sonar. Anyway, I was testing it, pointing it first to some ectoplasm in jars and then to different areas of the house. The strength of the signal indicates whether the ectoplasm has organized." She waved her hand away as though this information wasn't very interesting – even though Danny found himself hanging on every word – and continued, "When I pointed it at your room…" she trailed off pointedly and Danny nodded.

"Right."

His mother sighed and hoisted the weapon on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, I might've over-reacted. It's still in the testing stages. Didn't mean to scare you guys."

Danny opened his mouth, wanting to say some scathing remark about how he didn't believe, but he couldn't do it. Sam seemed to see his struggle because she suddenly said, "But ghosts don't exist anyways."

Danny hated to see the look of hurt on her face. "Yes well…" she trailed off awkwardly. "You guys have fun."

And she left, closing the door behind her.

Within a second, Sam and Tucker had rounded on Danny, their eyes wide and excited. He didn't have to be a genius to know what they were going to ask him. He scratched the back of his head, remembering the feel of her breath brushing against his skin. She'd been right next to him, could've been touching him for all he knew.

"So?" Tucker prompted when he didn't say anything. "What did she say? We heard you say 'what're you—' before your mom barged in." He paused. "By the way, she's amazing."

Danny grinned. "I know."

"I'm not covering up for you next time," Sam shot, folding her arms. "I don't like lying to adults."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"Sam! That's not important!" Tucker said. "C'mon tell us."

"She asked if we liked her present," he said.

"Told you."

"Yeah, you're a genius," Danny rolled his eyes. "She could read my mind too! Said that we'd be reading about that soon." Then he paused, remembering the final piece of their conversation and the smile slid off his face.

"What else did she say?" Sam asked slowly, seeing the look on his face.

"She told me not get caught alone in the school. Wherever I go, stay with my friends. Don't get caught alone. _Don't be alone._"

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p><em>While the Ghost Zone cannot be accessed by any single gate or way of entry, there are certain hot spots that appear throughout the world, allowing entry into its realm. One famous area is the Devils Triangle – also known as the Bermuda Triangle – where many have been known to disappear. The reason for this is unknown; some theorizing that the magnetism of the earth's gravitation field plays a part, while others say it is the work of random scattering. In any case, they are spots that allow for beings within the ghost zone to past through into the material world. <em>

_Not all ghosts can survive the passage through. A certain degree of energy is required for a ghost to make it thorough these holes in the Ghost Zone. A ghost's energy depends upon their ability to convert ectoplasm into energy – an unconscious process – and the strength of their consciousness. The weakest ghosts are forced to reside in the zone unless they were formed within the material world itself – a situation wherein their soul ran into ectoplasm before reaching the zone – and in which case they will remain on the plane they were created, unless they are sent to the ghost zone forcibly. These weak ghosts rely heavily on mediums and artifacts in order to finish their work. _

_Other ghosts can pass through these holes, but take up so much energy that they lose the ability to become tangible. They are unseen except by those who have received the Diabolical Stigma. _

Danny paused, flicking his flashlight off as he heard footsteps pass by his door. The clock on his bedside table told him that it was very late, and he knew that he was going to be dead in school the next day, but he couldn't stop reading. He wanted, _needed_ to know more.

Sam and Tucker had left for home not long after the incident with his mother. Homework and their own parent's calling them for dinner. Sam had wanted to take the book with her, but Tucker had shot that down, saying that the ghost had given it to Danny and might not like it if Sam took it. Danny grinned in the dark, the worn pages beneath his fingers. She was going to be so mad when she found out that he was reading ahead. That was usually her job.

After remaining frozen for a second longer, the footsteps disappearing back toward his parent's bedroom – probably his dad going for a midnight snack or bathroom visit – he clicked the light back on, leaning back over the page.

It was incredibly fascinating, more so than he remembered as a child. And, if the incident from before was anything to go by, his mother already knew most of this information. Where had she learned it? It had probably been more difficult for her than him, what without the Internet at her fingertips. She must've read book after book, trying to find some valid information.

But she seemed to have found it.

Danny smiled to himself, grateful – for once in his life – that his parents were ghost hunters. Sure, it was embarrassing and annoying at times, but it was honestly the coolest thing ever. And, he had never felt so safe in his home before. He chuckled, wondering idly if Sam and Tucker were getting any sleep tonight. He wasn't, but that was merely because he was so enthralled in this book.

He glanced at the bottom of the page when a definition of what a Diabolical Stigma was didn't follow the term. There in the footnotes it referenced him to a page in the demon section of the text. After flipping through the pages he found it, keeping a thumb to mark his spot.

_The Diabolical Stigma is the process by which one undergoes in order to see demons that do not possess the necessary power to make themselves visible to human eyes. In order to obtain it, one must receive an injury or illness from a demon. This allows the human mind to calibrate itself to the entities, peeling back the veil and giving the ability to see what was previously invisible. _

Did that mean his parent's had been encountered a demon then? Could they actually see them, when the rest of the world couldn't? He'd never really thought about it. He wanted to ask them now, but that would force him to tell them he'd actually become interested in the subject. He sighed, turning back to his original page. He was really going to have to tell them sometime soon. It was starting to become more troublesome for him to keep it quiet, after all, it would be so much easier to just ask his mother all his questions instead of sneaking around, looking for answers.

_Other ghosts—_

He read

—_can materialize in the physical world to varying degrees. It always takes more energy for a ghost to be tangible and seen, than for them to reside in their natural state – which can only be seen by those with the Diabolical Stigma. However, all ghosts possess the ability to completely obscure themselves, even from those with the stigma with relatively little difficulty. _

_All ghosts have an array of standard abilities, the power and extent of which vary upon the specter in question. While not all may have the energy to become tangible, all can become intangible, invisible to even those with stigma, fly, possess another's body, and change the shape of their body for short periods of time. _

_What has been discussed above primarily are semi-powerful to weak ghosts that were previously a human or animal on earth, with a life span of less than one hundred years. These are the most common type ghost and the least troublesome. There are several other types of ghosts, some that were not human or animal previously and others who have special abilities aside from the standard list. Some ghosts that fall under this category are poltergeists, phantoms, shades, demonic spirits, ghosts older than two hundred years and gásts. _

_A gást isn't a human attempting to move on, or a demon from below. They are the original ghosts, the entity that has always existed within the Ghost Zone. They are relatives to ectoplasm, being entirely composed of the material with no other contributing factors. Some believe that they were once ectoplasm but over time amassed enough spectral energy to become their own unique creature with their own specific ability; a process similar to that of evolution. The specifics of their species can be read on page—_

_Knock. _"Danny?"

Danny jumped and slammed the book shut, shoving it under his pillow as his door was pushed open. He looked up, surprised to see not his mother, but his sister. Jazz stood suspended in the doorway for a moment, her hand wringing the fringe of her nightshirt with something akin to nervousness. Danny stared at her, taken aback by her presence.

"Yeah?" Danny glanced at the clock on his beside table. "It's almost two, Jazz."

"Yeah, I know. I saw a flicker of light under your door or I might've—" she trailed off awkwardly. Danny couldn't see her expression in the dim, but he recognized that something was bothering her.

"It's okay," he said. "What is it?"

They hadn't really talked at all since that incident in the lab, the first day of school. He dimly remembered his mother telling him that Jazz was upset over what he'd said, but apparently a lot more than she'd let on. Jazz walked over to him, taking a seat on his bed next to him, her gaze trained on the floor.

They used to talk all the time, he and her. Not so much now, but they used to stay up until the early hours of the morning, just talking about anything that came to mind. He would tell her the events of the day, his worries, his fears and she'd tell him hers. But then he became a teenager and the need to have secrets and an overbearing sister stopped the conversations. He missed those times a little, back when he could tolerate all the psychobabble she spouted.

"I know that sometimes you hate it when I but in," she started softly, in her midnight whisper. "And I don't mean to. Sometimes I get so into my psychology that I don't—"

"Jazz, it's okay," Danny broke in, staring at her. She was apologizing to him? "It's my fault, I over-reacted a bit."

"But I should've realized that I was just being a bother."

"Yeah, a little bit of a bother."

"Thanks…"

"But you're my older sister. You're _supposed_ to be a bother every now and then," he grinned. "Otherwise I'd never get the stereotypical teenage experience."

Jazz looked up at him, a brow raised. "Have you been reading my books?"

"I might've browsed through them on occasion. Looking for the 'mentality of a bully' section."

Jazz laughed. "Right. Are you okay, by the way? I heard at school that Dash hit you, but mom said—"

"I lied to her," Danny said with a frown. "I didn't want her to worry."

"But Danny! You can't just let him get away with it."

For once, he wasn't bothered by her concern. In fact, he appreciated it. "I know, but it's not that big of a deal. I mean, I've been bullied before."

"Not like that!"

"Yeah I know, but it was bound to happen anyway. And if I drag mom and dad into it I'll just turn into even more of a wimp." He grimaced. "I have my pride after all."

"Even if you're bleeding all over the place?"

"It's a guy thing. I thought you were the psychologist." He nudged her playfully with his arm. At her still worried expression he added, "If it gets too bad, I promise I'll reach out for help, okay? I won't kill myself."

Jazz looked at him. "I'm not sure whether or not I'm comforted by that…"

"Be comforted." Danny allowed his eye to wander over to his pillow, where the book laid hidden. He felt a strange impulse to share it with her, to tell her about his new revelation with ghosts. After a moment's silence he asked, "Jazz, do you believe in ghosts?"

She paused before answering. "Not really. There's no hard evidence for their existence."

"And, what if you _had_ some hard evidence?"

"I'd probably exhaust every other possible explanation before accepting the hypothesis that ghosts were the cause."

Danny chuckled. "That sounds like you." He couldn't tell her. She wouldn't believe him, just like he wouldn't have believed it if Mr. Worth had just told him that ghosts existed instead of allowing him to figure it out for himself. He felt almost pained, wishing that she could see the truth that he saw. He felt relieved, happier knowing in spite of the darkness that surrounded that truth.

"Why do you ask?"

"Just curious. Mom came and talked to me after I yelled at you… and her."

"And?"

Danny scratched his neck. It couldn't hurt to tell her the same thing, could it? After all, that had been when it all started. "She told me that I didn't have to believe in ghosts, they believed in me." He paused, and then grinned. "And that I should be nicer to you."

"Good to see that you're taking her advice then," Jazz laughed nudging him back. "The non-ghost one."

Danny felt his smile fall slightly. He shouldn't have expected anything; maybe it wasn't the same for her. But then, why wasn't it? Why would the ghosts come only after him and not her? He sighed, deciding to stop himself from thinking too much about it. There wasn't any way for him to answer it. Jazz yawned and stood.

"I need to go to bed."

"Yeah, same here."

She smiled at him, and wrapped her arms around him in a brief hug before leaving, closing the door behind her. He stared after her for several moments, wondering when the truth would reveal itself to her. Maybe it never would. He reached under his pillow and pulled out the book again, gazing at the cover.

"I should get to bed too," he said, though he was reluctant to put the book away. Part of him told him that there was no point now; he was going to be dead tomorrow no matter what. Though, the other argued, if he went to bed now he might not sleep completely through his classes. Grudgingly, he slid the text underneath his bed.

He had almost drifted off to sleep with a wave of cold washed over him, words hanging in the air above him for a second before vanishing, like a wisp of smoke caught in the breeze.

"Don't get caught alone."


	7. Have You Awakened?

**Author's Note**

Right. The characters have officially taken over this story. I might have to re-think my timeline a little...

Questions? Comments? Concerns? Please drop a review!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven<strong>  
>Have you awakened?<p>

_Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you mad_.

Aldous Huxley

* * *

><p>Oops didn't quite cover it.<p>

He'd really messed up this time, boggled it completely, made a horrible mistake. And the worst part was that he didn't have time to set it right, to take back the last few steps of his sprint. He was there and it was too late, the churning in his gut making him nauseous. The temperature was dropping around him, chilling him to the bone, turning his breath into frosty mist. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think. This couldn't be happening, how could he have done something so thoughtless?

How could he have gotten caught _alone_?

It was coming. He could feel it with every fiber of his being. His hands shook, his knees quaked. He was running again, tearing through the deserted halls, but he knew he would never make it. He could hear it closing in on him, riding his heels, rustling the wind. The hallway turned pitch-black, a small pop resounding as the lights exhausted themselves. He could hear it cackling behind him, mad with glee.

The door was right in front of him, the door to his freedom, to the brightness outside, to the safety of his friends. He was _so close._ His hand stretched out, clasping on the handle before him. And then, something grabbed his ankle, something freezing cold and burning hot at the same time.

And he was dragged back into the black oblivion.

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>For the rest of the week, Danny and his friends spent all their free-time back in Danny's room reading the aged leather-bound book that the ghost – whom Tucker had started to call Miss Invisible – had given to them. Danny was almost disappointed when she didn't show up again, her last message hanging over all of them like a black thundercloud. But at the same time, he was grateful. His mother didn't barge into this room, the risk that she would find out what they were up to small.<p>

However, they couldn't spend every waking moment doing research. There was still school to contend with and ever since his confrontation with Dash, Danny found himself skirting through the hallways, avoiding another incident. Then there was homework, something Danny detested but did to the best of his ability. He wanted to do well in school, wanted to have good grades. Wanted prove that his sister wasn't the only one who could get straight A's.

Though, try as he might, he could not understand math. It had never been something he was good at, and high school math seemed particularly horrid. It just didn't make sense, no matter how long he stared at the page. He couldn't even do basic algebra correctly, and mental math was definitely out. He dreaded it, every day he went to class, staring at the board as he tried in vain to understand. It frustrated him. That was probably why he was looking forward to Friday so much, the escape from school and all its problems to home where he could focus on ghosts.

But he had to get past math first.

"Tucker," he whispered through the corner of his mouth. "What does this even _mean_?" he asked, nodding toward a problem.

"It's a linear equation."

"I know that much," Danny said crossly. "I mean, what am I supposed to do with it?"

"Graph it." Tucker sighed. "You know the parent function, right?"

"The… simplest one, right?" Danny said rubbing his temples. "That goes through 0,0?"

"Yeah. This one is modified to start at 1,4 with a growth factor of two."

"How do you even know that?" Danny asked staring at the equation.

"The transformations are modeled by this equation," Tucker wrote something with letters as well as numbers. Danny frowned.

"That doesn't help me at all."

"Why don't you just go talk to Mr. Worth after school, then? He could probably explain it in a way you can understand," Tucker suggested with a shrug.

Danny frowned but didn't answer, glancing up at the teacher in question as he made his rounds about the classroom, occasionally helping a student with a question. He didn't like the idea of giving math more time than what he was already required to give, but if he wanted to have any hope of passing… he groaned, leaning back in his chair. So much for the Fenton's being a family of geniuses. He couldn't even figure out how to graph a measly linear equation. He was going to die when they got to quadratics – he had flipped through his book the night before.

On Tucker's other side, Sam had already finished the class problems, _and_ the homework. Danny's book on ghosts was open under the table. Even though they decided it would remain with Danny, he saw no harm letting them hang onto it, reasoning that as long as he was somewhat near it, it'd be all right. Danny thought they might be being a little too cautious with the scenario, but then again it was probably for the best.

They had also made sure they were always together.

Even though they didn't know why or what was going on, they knew that something was _off_ in the school. Danny had been the first to point it out. The lights had started to flicker at odd intervals, knocks on doors caused by no one, and a constant cold. Even Tucker and Sam had felt it this time, and they noticed – and kept careful track – of which classrooms felt colder than others. So far, Mr. Lancer's was the warmest, and the hallway next to the boy's locker room was the coldest.

"Are you having trouble, Mr. Fenton?"

Danny started and looked up into Mr. Worth's kindly lined face. He was still donning the tweed jacket look, this time with a charcoal color. Danny grimaced and glanced down at his barely started worksheet.

"I'm having a little trouble," he said in a quiet voice, hoping that none of his classmates overheard.

"With?"

"The entire concept, sir."

Mr. Worth looked at him for a moment before nodding. "What do you want to do to remedy that?"

Danny sighed. "Can I come in after school?"

"You may," and he walked away. He paused briefly over Sam's desk, saw that her work was finished and the continued on without comment. Danny dropped his pencil onto his paper, completely giving up.

"You okay?" Tucker asked him.

"Why wouldn't I be? The first thing I get to do on my Friday after school is more school."

"Cheer up, dude. It could be worse."

"Oh yeah, how?"

"You could be that guy," and Tucker pointed to Mikey who was looking extremely nervous. Dash was leaning over to him, whispering something into his ear. No doubt forcing him to do his math homework for him under pain of nerd wailing.

"True that."

At that moment, the light above them flickered oddly before dying with a fizz. While the rest of the class merely glanced at it before disregarding it, Danny and Tucker watched it for several second afterward before glancing at each other. They knew it was a telltale sign of a haunting. All they didn't know was what to do about it. Or what exactly was haunting the school.

"Maybe we should tell your folks," Tucker muttered through the corner of his mouth.

"And say what?" Danny countered. "We think there's something haunting the school?"

"Well, yeah."

"Tuck, they don't even know we're researching the stuff. We can't just _tell_ them."

Tucker rolled his eyes. "You're going to have to tell them you were wrong eventually. Your pride's going to kill you, dude."

"Well, I'm still breathing, aren't I?"

"For now."

Danny opened his mouth to reply but the bell cut him off, signaling the end of class. He sighed and packed his unfinished work away, silently cursing whoever it was that had invented math – ignoring the fact that without it life wouldn't be able to function.

"Sam," he said when she didn't get up, too engrossed in the book. "C'mon, we have P.E. next."

After a second longer, during which Danny assumed she finished her paragraph, she closed the book with a snap, shoving her stuff into her bag. Her brain had fused with her eyebrows, an expression of deep thought over her face.

"Learn anything new?"

"Not really, just more details. It's getting into the different types of spirits now, but I'm having a little difficulty pinpointing which one would be here, in the school."

"I've been telling Danny that he should ask his folks."

"I assume he says no?"

"Well, yeah!" Danny said, holding the door open for them on the way out. "It's not time yet!"

Sam rolled her violet eyes. "You've been saying that for the last three days," she sighed. "How long are you going to wait?"

"As long as I want!"

Danny couldn't expect they'd understand. He didn't really understand it himself, why he didn't just tell them. Maybe it was his pride, or maybe something else was stopping him. He just knew he'd recognize it when the right moment came, and it wasn't now. Anyway, now there were more pressing matters.

While he had managed to avoid Dash during lunch and after school, he couldn't avoid him in class and P.E. seemed to just encourage violence. He and Tucker waved goodbye to Sam as she went on to the girls locker-room, while they entered the men's. Danny hated it in there.

No teachers, and lots of concrete.

Dash didn't seem to be there yet. Almost feverish, he went to his locker and put in the combination, ripping it open. Tucker only glanced at him before turning to his own. He knew why Danny was getting dressed at lighting speed, why he was stuffing his clothes back into his locker and relocking it with fumbling fingers. Danny finished with not a second to spare.

"Hey Fent-tonio!"

He braced himself, waiting for what inevitably would. He felt Dash's hand smack him hard between the shoulder blades, sending him into the locker with a grunt. He turned quickly, preferring to have his enemy in his sights. Yeah, Dash was considered his enemy now, and he absolutely loathed him. He clenched his fists; wishing he could punch the stupid smirk of his face, stand against his cruel treatment.

"You got dressed already?"

"Yup," he said. God, the first time had been awful. Dash had grabbed his jeans and attempted to flush them down the toilet, which only resulted in them plugging the toilet. And then they'd tried to make him fish it out, _with his mouth_.

"Bummer," Dash said and the smirk flew off his face. He grabbed him by his collar, tossing him aside as though he were a rag doll. He hit the corner of the bench, sprawling over the floor. It seemed he was going to get off easy this time, or at least, that's what he thought.

He was wrong.

A second later, he was getting pulled to his feet by his hair, getting dragged over the cold concrete floor toward the showers. Danny started to panic, trying to loosen Dash's grip. Whatever the football star had in mind, he knew it couldn't be good. And, these were his only pair of exercise clothes. Tetslaff would be pissed if he came in his jeans. "C-C'mon Dash," he said weakly. "Let go!"

"Don't think so, loser," Dash tossed him in and kicked the shower on. Danny was drenched in freezing water, soaking through his red and white P.E. clothes. He shivered, his sky blue eyes furious as they gazed up into Dash's triumphant face. _Just let him think he's won_, he told himself. But he hated the idea of it; he didn't want Dash to win. Even if it meant that he'd get pushed around or punched. He just _hated_ it.

And then the lights went out.

"FENTON!"

Danny didn't know why the lights had decided to go out at that point and he didn't really care. All he knew was that it was his break to get away. He crawled to the corner, before breaking into a run toward the hallway. He could hear Dash yelling after him, hear his feet thundering after him, hear Tucker shouting something after him. He slid into the hallway, nearly slipping on the water that was being sprayed everywhere by his clothes. The janitor was going to be pissed at him too; the list was just growing, wasn't it?

He felt rough hands trying to grab his shirt, but with an almighty yell Dash fell in a puddle caused by Danny's dripping shorts. He cursed loudly and Danny bolted, knowing that it was his chance. He turned when he came to a junction in the hallway, then he turned again. Left, right, left. He didn't know where he was going; all he knew was that he was putting as much space between him and a completely _pissed off_ Dash with wet shorts. Maybe he would just skive off P.E. in general, he was probably already late. After a few minutes he came to a stop, taking in deep ragged breaths.

He was so dead the next time they met up. It'd been a short life, maybe his mother would cry at the funeral and—

The totally pathetic thought stopped dead. He was_ alone_. He turned slowly, allowing his gaze to take in the deserted hallway. Where was he? He glanced at the walls, noting the projects depicting Egyptian characters and Civil War pictures. History then? He might've been vaguely interested, after all he didn't have history this semester, if not for the glaringly obvious fact that there was absolutely _no one _around.

And then the temperature started to drop.

His wet T-shirt glued itself to his back, the hairs on his arms prickling. Above him the lights flickered and went out, the fuses giving off tiny pops as they exploded from within. His breath came in shallow gasps, a new kind of fear infringing upon his mind. It consumed him, locked down anything else that was important, self-preservation the first priority. And then he was running, back to the gym. Dash felt like a fly in comparison to the terror assaulting him now.

But the cold was following him, growing worse. His breath arose in a mist before him and he shivered violently, his teeth chattering. He could hear it now, hear it racing after him. He could feel the shadow that enveloped it, feel as it sucked the warmth of the air and filled it with its breath.

He turned the corner and skidded into the lockers, tumbling to the floor. The lights died here too, plunging him into the utmost darkness. It was penetrating, suffocating blackness, as though something were sucking the light out of the air. He scrambled to get to his feet, his hands squeaking as they gripped the linoleum floor. Slipping and sliding, he kept running, knowing that it was too late. He would never make it. The door to the gym was right in front of him; his fingertips were touching the handle—

And then _it_ grabbed his ankle, dragging him back into the black void behind. He opened his mouth to scream, to shriek for help, but he couldn't make a sound. Freezing cold was pressing over his vocal cords, smothering any sound. Tears pricked at his eyes, his heart hammering wildly within his chest.

He was going to _die_. He was seriously going to die.

It was pulling him around the corner; the door was vanishing from his view. Would they take long to find his body? Why hadn't he taken some of his parent's weapons? A little ecto-gun hidden away in his backpack? Why hadn't he simply _told_ them what was going on? This whole thing might've been prevented, he might've lived. Would Tucker be happy, knowing he was right about his pride killing him in the end?

And then he heard it. Horrible bone-cracking laughter was rumbling in the air all around him. It vibrated in his chest, shaking his hands. It was inside his very soul, rattling around within him. And then it spoke; or rather, _he_ spoke.

"Daniel Fenton." It was soothing and yet bit with an icy sharpness that sliced through him. It was strange, how a voice so deep and melodic could be so vicious at the same time, as though he were taking bites out of the air. "Well would you look at that?"

The pressure on his throat disappeared, the dragging stopped. For one brief moment Danny just sat there, panting as he gazed sightlessly around in the darkness, then _his_ hand fastened around his wrist. Nails dug into his flesh, dragged him ruthlessly to his feet. Danny shut his eyes, waiting for the final blow to be dealt, for his life to be finished in a slash of violence. But something was overriding his fear, was giving him strength top open his mouth.

"You—" He swallowed. "You know me?"

The entity laughed again, the painful grip on his wrist lessening slightly. "I know of all things concerning my spirits."

"You—your spirits?"

"_My _Spirits."

The curiosity was calming his mind down, the confusion allowing his thoughts to become more lucid and clear. And, the fact that the thing hadn't killed him yet was giving him a hope. "But I'm not—"

"No, you're not." He could feel it leaning over him, bearing down on him like a predator ready to feast. "But you have their touch."

Danny's head was spinning. "Touch?" he repeated blankly. And then he opened his eyes.

Blackness did not meet his gaze, though it swirled around in his peripheral vision. The shadows had form; wisps of swirling smoke that made intricate designs as they whirled through the air, swooping and spinning around him like a million miniscule insects. But the most important thing was that there were long skeletal fingers wrapped around his wrist. Black fingernails had imbedded themselves into his flesh, blood sliding down his arm to drip from his elbow. Slowly, as though he were in a dream, he looked up into the face of the man – if it could even be called that.

He was extremely tall, forced to hunch in order to fit in the hallway and completely emaciated, his charcoal skin stretched tight over an elongated skeleton that was only vaguely human in appearance. A ripped cloak was all he wore, but the material seemed to float around him, as though suspended in water and it was then that Danny realized that his feet did not touch the floor. He hovered, a foot above the ground, one hand clutching the top of the locker as though he were hanging from it like some sort of demonic monkey. A series of pearly white spines protruded from his neck, curling into an elaborate horn formation that was positioned forward, like a goat only with elegance. But his eyes; Danny couldn't tear his gaze away from it. Set in a sunken face with some semblance of once handsome features etched in the lines, it was as though piercing yellow clouds had molded with runny yoke, covering the pupil and whites. He cracked a wide vicious smile, revealing rows of pointed teeth.

"Have you awakened, Daniel Fenton?" he asked, and Danny caught a glimpse of a forked snowy tongue.

"What _are _you?" Danny breathed, staring at him in awe. It chuckled again, disappearing on a swirl of black smoke only to reappear at his side, its hand releasing its cruel grip on his wrist.

"I am Azazel, one of the eight demon kings," he bowed his head, though the motion was a mocking one. "King of spirits."

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>"Are you going to kill me?"<p>

"You have the touch of my spirits."

Danny didn't know what that meant. He didn't know if that was a yes or no. He didn't know what any of what the demon had said. All he knew was that he was horribly confused and terrified out of his mind. His legs itched to move, craved to take him as far away as he could possibly be from the being that hovered above him. He seriously considered it, for one brief moment before it was shot down. He would never succeed. He was left to stand in the hallway, praying that someone would come around that corner and dispel this nightmare.

Maybe he'd hit his head. That _had_ to be it. This was all just an insanely vivid dream, caused by a blow to the head that he didn't remember. Any second now he'd wakeup in the infirmary, an icepack pressed against his temple. He tried to hold onto that image, but it was slipping through his fingers like water. The pain in his hand was real; the freezing cold that chilled his bones was real.

The demon before him was _real_.

"The Diabolical Stigma?" Danny asked, striving to keep his voice steady. Azazel roared with laughter, disappearing in another puff of black smoke. Danny thought he'd gone when his voice sounded right above him, making him jump. He was lounging across the lockers, one of his bony hands reached out toward him.

"You have been doing research, but no. That is not to what I was referring, although I have just bestowed that courtesy upon you."

Danny put his hand over scratches in his wrist. Was it really a courtesy to see what was going to kill you? "Then, what?" he asked nervously.

Azazel was suddenly impossibly close, those yellow eyes boring into his blue ones. "Have you ever felt the temperature drop in a room, the prickling on your arms? Realized the change when those around you remained oblivious? You can sense us, can't you Daniel Fenton?"

"But, Tucker and Sam said they could feel when it was cold in the school too," Danny spluttered, wanting to take a step back but unable to.

"Are you sure?" he was gone, a wash of black smoke in his wake. A second later, Danny felt a finger on his shoulder, black cloth brushing against his skin. "Maybe they believed that you felt it, and so assumed they should feel it too." He laughed in his ear, taking in a long rattling breath. "Oh, they like you."

Danny wrenched himself away, taking several steps back from Azazel. The demon's yellow eyes followed him, laughing at him, examining him. "W-what?" he asked in a choked voice. Azazel disappeared, reappearing above him, his wide toothy grin back on his malevolent face.

"The ectoplasm does." A cloud of smoke later he was looking up into his face, stroking his chin. "I wonder why that is?"

"Why would I-I know?"

A hand darted out, grabbing his wrist. Danny yelped as the he brushed the injury he had inflicted, stared as he bent over it and licked the slowly drying blood. "What are you doing?" Danny shouted trying to yank his hand back, but a second later he'd fallen back as the demon let go of him.

"They've watched you grow, Daniel Fenton," Azazel said, cocking his head as he watched him try to wipe his arm off. "You have been exposed to ectoplasm your whole life, haven't you?"

"S-so?" Danny said. He could feel knots churning his stomach.

The demon didn't answer. It was regarding Danny in such a way that made him miss the hungry look in its face, made him miss the sensation of being seconds from death. It was thoughtful, curious, as though there was a puzzle being presented before it that had some inkling of how to solve, but not on what the final product would be. His heart was sinking deeper than ever before, a heavy feeling of apprehensive concern. If the King of Ghosts was wondering what the ectoplasm was doing…

"What does that mean?" Danny prompted. But Azazel didn't seem to be listening; he was looking at the air around them, holding his hand out. The black swirling mist rushed to his palm, spinning around it. He dropped his hand, looking back at Danny.

"They like your town."

"What?"

"This just gets better and better," the demon laughed again, disappearing into the air once more. Danny was starting to feel as though the demon were completely ignoring him, talking to nothing. "But why?"

"You tell me."

The demon was in his face again, the smile gone. Danny blanched, not having meant to say that aloud. Azazel stared at him long and hard, as though reading something behind Danny's eyes. And then, he seemed to find it. Glee did not break out across his face, nor did rage. He did not sneer at him, nor did he appear sad. It was an expression that did not look _right_ on the demon's face, as though it was rarely there.

It was awe.

"Daniel Fenton, the boy who has touched ectoplasm since birth," the demon said, the wonder bleeding into his voice. "What are _you_?"

And then he was gone, cackling madly into the dark.


	8. Owe Them That Much

**Author's Note**

Okay, I'm not as happy with this chapter as with the previous one. I had a headache while writing it, so you'll see that sometimes my thoughts jump around a little. I don't have time to really go back an edit it since Nano demands that I keep writing. I'll probably go back and edit everything when Nano is done.

Anyway, hope you enjoy! And I would love to hear any comments you have on the story!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eight<strong>  
>Owed Them That Much<p>

One need not be a chamber to be haunted;

One need not be a house;

The brain has corridors surpassing

Material place.

Emily Dickinson

* * *

><p>What better prison is there than one's own mind?<p>

Was insanity what happens when your mind throws away the key? When you can no longer access the parts of your brain that allows for reason, logic, and common sense? When it finally decides to ignore what the world impressed upon it and collapses within itself? Or, was it when it finally realizes there were things in this world that were never meant to be seen, and tried too late to wipe away what it now knows?

His mirror was shattering. He kept his eyes closed, terrified of seeing the world around him, seeing his insanity splashed against walls and ceiling. But he wasn't really insane. He veil had been pushed back from his gaze, the truth had been revealed to him. Now he wondered if he'd rather not be back in the ignorance that he had been so unhappy within. Was it worth it, now? His hands shook, his shoulders hunched, his teeth chewed on his lower lip.

Maybe insanity wasn't when one's mind panicked in the face of truth. Maybe it was what happened when it saw the truth and accepted it. The truth was what bred the insanity. Those who were insane were the sanest ones of all.

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>"Danny? Danny!"<p>

Someone was slapping his face. His eyes snapped open, blinking in the bright light above him. Several people were peering down at him, regarding him curiously. He could hear their whispers, but couldn't make out exactly what was being said. Sam and Tucker were the first ones he really focused on, as they were hovering almost directly above him, and he suspected that it had been Sam that had been slapping him—

Why was he on the floor?

Slowly, he sat up. A wave of pain slammed into his head and he raised a hand to clutch his temple, as though attempting to steady himself. He could feel a throbbing bump at the base of his skull. Had he fallen? What happened? He blinked, trying to remember. He remembered getting tossed in the shower, running from Dash—

"Danny, what happened to your arm!"

Danny blinked and glanced at his wrist, staring at the mess of blood that had dried against his skin, several long jagged slashes still attempting to coagulate.

Oh. _Oh._

Danny's head shot up, darting around the hallway. That's right. He'd encountered his very first demon. Azazel. King of Spirits. But he hadn't killed him, he'd merely talked to him – and slashed his arm to smithereens. He wanted to throw up, the world a spinning in a mosaic of color. He groaned and leaned back against something cold and solid. He still couldn't remember how he had ended up on the floor. He could see the demon laughing, disappearing in a cloud of black dust. He closed his eyes, fighting back against the nausea, trying to recall the events with more clarity.

"Are you all right?"

Sam's voice. He wanted to bite scathingly that he most definitely was not all right, but he was afraid to open his mouth.

"Manson, Foley, Take Fenton up to the infirmary."

That sounded like Tetslaff. Had the entire class come out to see him? He wondered why then he didn't hear any of their jeering or laughing, but maybe being coated in blood killed the mood. He felt his friends grip him under the arm.

"Ready?" Tucker asked.

Danny nodded, and they hoisted him to his feet. He swayed, horribly dizzy, leaning on them for support. He considered the possibility that Dash had snuck behind him, thwacking him on the head before faking innocence and getting Tetslaff. He cracked his eye open, searching for the football player. Dash didn't look smug; in fact he was staring at him with the same curious expression as the rest of his peers. So maybe he hadn't done it. He was dimly aware that Tucker and Sam were leading him toward the nurse's office. He could feel Sam's hand shaking as it held his elbow. He glanced at her, finding her face pale and worried. She also seemed afraid to take her eyes off of him for a second.

They didn't say anything until they gone out of earshot of the rest of the class. "She told you not to get caught alone," Tucker said, his voice shaking. "I-I didn't realize until you'd already bolted out of the locker-room. I tried to run after you but Dash—"

"S'okay," Danny grunted, gritting his teeth.

"It's not!" Sam bit her lip. "I-I thought—When we saw you—" She trailed off with a shudder. "You might've—"

"You really scared us," Tucker said. His best friend was avoiding his gaze, staring at the floor. "When you didn't come back," he swallowed. "And then we all heard this laughter…"

"You heard him?" Danny's eyes widened. "That's why you all came out?"

"Well, then I pretty much shouted your name and bolted for the door," Tucker said sheepishly. "Everyone just followed me out and then we saw you crumple to the floor."

"There was this horribly smack as your head hit the ground."

Danny blinked, furrowing his brow. "But did you see _why_ I fell?"

"No… wait, you don't know?"

Danny shook his head, and then regretted it. His headache seemed to really object to that idea and was hammering away inside his skull. Tucker pushed open the door to the infirmary in front of him, something that surprised Danny. He usually couldn't even walk past the place without a bag over his head, much less walk inside. He was about to point that out when the nurse swooped over them.

He could never remember her name. She was just the pretty blonde lady. With questionable doctoring skills, but a pleasant bedside manner.

"What on earth happened?" she asked, directing them to one of the beds.

There was no way to lie. There was a chance that entire school already knew that he'd been found, bloody, in a hallway seconds after malevolent laughter. He grimaced, when Jazz heard—

"W-we found him in the hallway," Sam began nervously. She obviously had no idea what to say either.

Danny held up a hand, stopping her. His face had turned a sickly green. The nurse jumped up and handed him the garbage can not a second too late. He emptied the contents of his stomach, shuddering as his retching made his head pound. He hadn't eaten very much, resulting in a large amount of bile. The smell itself almost made him puke again, but he didn't – much to his relief. He shut his eyes, putting the can back onto the floor.

"Danny, open your eyes," the nurse said. "I need you to open your eyes."

With a great deal of reluctance, he opened them. She nodded and took his face in her hand, the other holding a flashlight as she waved it across his eyes. After a moment she put it away, and Danny finally noticed her nametag. Daisy.

"You look like you have a small concussion," she frowned. "Did that boy beat you up again, Danny?"

"He was in class with us," Tucker said. Danny could tell that both Sam and him were very eager to know what exactly had happened as well, though they weren't asking. They knew that he couldn't tell Nurse Daisy exactly what had happened. And try as he might to remember, Danny still had no idea how he had ended up on the floor.

"Everything's kinda a blur," he said, putting his head in his hands, pressing his palms against his eyelids. He had to be cautious, he couldn't tell the Daisy everything. She'd lock him in a loony bin for certain, even if everyone else had heard the laughter.

"_What are __**you**_?"

Danny's eyes snapped open. The demon said that to him right before he disappeared. He could see him turning away in a cloud of black smoke, see shape starting to return to the hallway. He'd stood there, staring after him, trying to work out what he'd meant, trying not to panic. He could see himself turning to head back to the gym; he could remember his knees shaking. Had he slipped on the floor—?

Slowly, gradually, like a painter taking a brush to canvas, the memory came into life before his eyes. He had _not_ been pushed or hit by someone. The hallway had been becoming bright and warm, the lights flickering back into existence. He had taken a step forward when he had, quite simply, fainted from exhaustion.

After the panic of waking up on the floor, it was almost a letdown to know that he'd only blacked out. Of course, after that ordeal, he was surprised he wasn't in a comma or a grave…

"I think I just fainted," Danny told her. "I should be all right soon."

Nurse Daisy stared at him. "And your arm?"

"I must've scratched it when I fell, or something."

"Or something."

Danny didn't reply to that and she sighed. "Fine, don't tell me." She crossed to the sink and wetted a paper towel. "The bullying at this school is some of the worse I have ever seen." She handed it to him to start cleaning his arm. "You don't have to tell me, but I want you to tell someone. Is there anyone on the faculty that you'd be willing to talk to? Maybe your advisor Ms. Webb or—"

"Worth." Danny swallowed. "I'd talk to Worth."

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>"Can I have a moment, with my friends?"<p>

Nurse Daisy regarded him for a moment before nodding. She had just finished bandaging his wrist with gauze.

"You have until I return with Mr. Worth."

Danny nodded and waited until she had left to turn to Sam and Tucker. They had both been remarkably silent for the last few minutes, though he knew that they had to have millions of questions for him. But, first and foremost, he needed to say something to them. Something important.

"I'm sorry." He looked down at his feet. "I shouldn't of—"

Two pairs of shaking arms wrapped themselves around him, squeezing him tight. "Don't you ever disobey what a ghost tells you again," Sam said very seriously.

"Especially if Miss Invisible."

They all laughed, and they released their bone-crushing grip from him. He could still see the worry in their faces; see how close they had come to thinking they had lost him. He didn't want to admit it, but he liked knowing how important he was to them. How much they'd miss him if he had gone. But he couldn't dwell on that now. He didn't have a lot of time – the math wing wasn't very far from the nurses – so he immediately launched into his retelling.

"It wasn't a ghost."

"What?"

"Wait, listen, we heard it Danny. We heard its laughter."

Danny was confused for a moment, staring at Tucker dumbfounded. Why was _that_ such big news? Surely the identity had higher priority. Then he remembered something else the demon had mentioned. "You guys… never actually felt the cold spots, did you?" His heart was sinking.

"Well," Tucker scratched his neck. "I thought I might've felt it at one point…"

Though his heart was heavy, his gut was churning with unpleasantness, he couldn't help but smile. "You guys believed me, even though you couldn't sense it yourself?"

"Of course, Danny," Sam said as though this should've been obvious. "When it comes to things regarding the paranormal I go to you and your family for information. When it comes to technology, I go to Tucker." She paused, and then continued a little more hesitant. "What did you mean, it wasn't a ghost?"

"His name was Azazel." He swallowed. "King of Spirits."

Tucker seemed to choke on his spit. After a moment, during which he coughed loudly, "Y-you mean—"

"Yeah. He was a demon, not a ghost. Ruler over ghosts, I should say." Danny paused a moment, glancing down at his bandaged arm. "There's something else too…"

"He stigmatized you, didn't he?" Danny looked up at Sam. She had her hand over her mouth, her face a pasty ash. "H-he did that to your arm?"

"Yeah. Hey," he added when her look of horror only worsened. "It could've been worse. He could've killed me."

"Wait, why didn't he?" Tucker asked. When they both stared at him he shrugged. "I mean, I thought that whatever was in the school would kill us if we got caught by it. He _should've_ just killed you, so how did you live?"

This was the part that he had been dreading. The part that he hadn't wanted to tell them about, but knew he had to. It was the most important part, the thing that was making his gut clench and his heart thud.

"He knew my name," he said in a quiet voice. "H-he knew of everything concerning his spirits."

"What do you—"

"The ectoplasm likes me," Danny said, barely whispering now. "I think he didn't kill me, because his spirits didn't want me dead."

_What are __**you**__?_

"He—" Danny was cut off as the door opened, revealing Daisy and a rather puzzled Mr. Worth. The man took in Danny sitting on top of the sickbed, his friends crowded around him, and shot a questioning look toward Daisy. Sam looked ready to leap up and slam the door in their faces, the frustration practically radiating off her. She clenched her fist and grabbed Tucker by the arm. "We'll finish this discussion later," she said through gritted teeth. But Danny had seen the fear in her eyes. She was just as worried as him, knew whatever link he had with ectoplasm was troublesome. She knew that there was something deeper at work here.

And it was going to haunt them until they knew what it was. And possibly after.

She dragged a protesting Tucker out the door, nodded curtly to Daisy and Mr. Worth before disappearing down the hall. He wondered idly if they'd skip the rest of P.E. or if the class had already finished. And then he allowed his gaze to meet Mr. Worth.

"Daisy said something about bullying—?" he questioned slowly. To Danny's annoyance, she didn't leave the room to allow them to talk. In fact, she looked ready to sit in on the discussion. She didn't really understand the whole, talk to a different faculty member, thing did she? Danny held up his bandaged arm, a wry smile curling about his lips.

"The footprints found me."

Danny watched as Worth's grey eyes widened. He understood. That's why Danny had asked for him. He turned to Daisy and asked, "Would you mind giving us a moment?"

Daisy gave him a disappointed sigh before nodding. "It's about time for my lunch break anyway. Lock the door when you leave."

And they were alone.

Worth crossed over to him, a mixture of emotions flitting across his face before returning to his characteristic expression of mild interest. As though everything was a game and he just needed to learn how to play.

"Who else knows?" he asked dropping his tone – probably in case Daisy had opted to press her ear against the door.

"Just my friends – the two that were in here with me," Danny said.

"I see." Mr. Worth stroked his blonde beard, regarding Danny thoughtfully. "Perhaps you best start at the beginning."

And so Danny did. He told him about getting the book from Miss Invisible, and how she had told him not to get caught in the school alone. As he approached the attack his speech grew faster. He explained how he had run out of the locker – kindly editing the reasons why – and ended up alone in a corridor. How the temperature had dropped and the way he felt someone chasing him as he tried to run back to the gym. How the being had grabbed him and taken him into a black void. When he reached the part about receiving the Diabolical Stigma however, he paused.

He had already told him so much more than his parents, and that fact made him guilty. It should be his mother that he was telling this all too, but—what if she forbade him from ever coming to school again? What if she and dad laid siege to the hallways and… Danny took a calming breath. Yes, that was why he was telling Worth, because he wasn't controlled by his emotions and wouldn't start blasting every shadow in sight.

"It gave me this," Danny said holding up his arm. He bit his lip and Mr. Worth surveyed him through square spectacles.

"You saw him."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement. Danny nodded, the image of the demon rising uncalled to his mind. As terrifying and grotesque he had been, there had been a strange elegance to his design. Entrancing, almost. Danny shuddered and cast his gaze to the floor. Mr. Worth was silent for a few moments.

"He was a demon, then."

"Yup."

"Did he introduce himself?"

"Azazel." Danny looked up. "King of Spirits."

Worth whistled. "That is one big fish." He chuckled lightly to himself for a moment before growing sober. He was looking thoughtful again, and somewhat confused. "He let you live?"

"Y-yeah."

"Why?"

Danny fidgeted. He almost wished that someone would barge in and cut him off again, but no one did. He would have to say it this time. "He knew my name," he began slowly. It was a little easier to get the words out this time, a little less nerve-wracking. "He told me that the ectoplasm liked me."

"It _liked_ you?"

"Yeah, but that's not all." Danny took in a great shuddering breath. "He looked into my eyes, and he said—he asked, what are _**you**_?" Danny bit his lip, wringing his hands together. "W-what did he mean? I-I'm not—am I-I—" He couldn't even say it, mostly because he wasn't sure how to finish that sentence. After a short pause he asked, "I'm human, right?"

Mr. Worth laughed, the sound warm and throaty. It calmed Danny down, made him look up and smile as the teacher patted his back. "Yes Danny. Unless you suddenly start floating, I think your safe there."

"Oh, good." Danny fidgeted with the edge of his bandage. "But what did he mean? Why did he say that?"

"I'm not sure I'm the right person to ask that, Danny," Mr. Worth said getting to his feet. "I feel honored that you have chosen me to confide in, but I'm not an expert at this stuff."

"But you know about the Diabolical Stigma, about demons and ectoplasm," Danny protested. "You were the one who noticed that there were dents in the lockers!"

"I do and I did, but there was someone else who noticed first, without the clues." He leaned forward upon his cane. "You know to whom I'm referring, correct?"

Danny hunched his shoulders. "I can't tell them."

"And why not?"

"They'd put the school on lock-down or something."

"Maybe that's for the best."

"But—" Danny didn't understand. How could that be good? Sure he no longer thought that they were shooting at thin air, but the rest of the school did. Just because he had given up on becoming popular, didn't mean he had to become an outcast! Then again everyone would probably be very happy to get out school—but he'd forever be a freak! No one would ever be able to forget it!

Mr. Worth bent down, his knees popping, as he came to meet Danny's dejected eye-level. "They might be the only ones who can answer Azazel's question," he said softly. "According to my limited knowledge of the subject, demons like him have no qualms about killing those they come across. The next time someone gets caught alone, I don't think they're going to live to tell the tale."

"I did…"

Mr. Worth shook his head. "There's only one of you. I don't think even your sister would escape if she ran into him in that corridor."

"But why?" The question burned within him, the horrible desire to know. "Why me? What makes me so special? I'm average. I didn't even believe in them until a few days ago?"

"I don't know. And even if I did, I can't answer that for you. It's something that you have to discover for yourself." He returned to his full height, striding toward the door. "Oh, and lets reschedule our meeting for today, shall we? How about Monday during lunch?"

Danny blinked, thrown off for a moment. "Um, sure." He paused then, "W-why can't you just tell them that there's something in the school?" he asked after him. His last ditch pathetic attempt.

Mr. Worth turned and smiled. "Don't you think they deserve to hear it from you? You owe them that much."

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>"Jack? That blonde weatherman says there's supposed to be a thunderstorm for the next few days, make sure you don't leave any inventions outside!"<p>

Danny hovered at the bottom of the stairs, having a furious war with himself. Before him, his mother had taken the couch, watching the news while she re-calibrated what he assumed to be the detection device she had mentioned him days ago. His friends had offered to join him for the discussion but he decided that he needed to do this alone. Mr. Worth was right, he did owe them that much. He owed them a lot, and his mother especially deserved to know that she had been right. What was that phrase?

Mother knows best.

And she definitely did. And she deserved to hear him say it, especially after everything that had happened. He had been putting it off until now though – almost nine. He'd hidden at Tucker's house, explained to them the rest of what the demon had said, and his conversation with Mr. Worth. They were both just as worried as him about the implications. About what Azazel could mean by asking that question, about why the ectoplasm liked Danny. And, they had both urged him to tell his parents.

"Worth is right," Sam had said, folding her arms. "You should tell them. What if it's me or Tucker next time? And I'm pretty sure the ectoplasm doesn't like us."

"Yeah, dude. Hey, we can come with you if want us to. I mean, we are part of this too now."

"Thanks Tuck, but I have to do this myself. I really do owe them that much."

And so here he stood, trying to form the words in his mind. He'd been doing that for the last hour, having darted up there the instant he came home. And, despite the warmth of the September afternoon, had donned a long-sleeve shirt. He didn't want to have to start the conversation with an explanation of what had happened to his arm. Preferably, it would be best if they never knew – even though they would. They would be able to tell.

Because Danny could see them.

He hadn't really noticed it until he'd gotten out of school. Then he had seen _them._ He wasn't even sure what they were. All he knew was there were black particles swirling through the air. It was similar to what he had seen in the hallway, except in vastly smaller numbers, as though he had just become able to see the dust in finer detail. But then there were other things. He only caught glimpses of those, because as soon as something large caught the corner of his eye, it disappeared, as though sensing his gaze. Needleless to say, he'd been highly paranoid while walking to Tucker's house.

And his room was swarming with them. The smaller ones anyway. After staring at them for about an hour, he'd come to discover they weren't just dust either. They were actual creatures, small with little tails and vivid green eyes. They'd come and hover above his palm, staring at him as he stared back at them. It was strange, but also incredibly fascinating. After flipping through his book, he had learned that it wasn't ectoplasm, but coal tar, a type of low-level demon that attached itself to the dust in the air. They liked to inhabit dark dank places, but also liked places with high levels of ectoplasm. Maybe that was why he kept seeing them float past his face.

"Sweetie? What is it?"

He looked up to see his mother watching him, a commercial on the screen before her. So he'd stood long enough to get noticed. He didn't answer for a moment, merely meeting her gaze with his own. Could she see them too? He noticed that there weren't any in the living room; maybe she had invented some kind of repellent for them? He wouldn't have put it past her. But, what did you say, when you finally realized that ghosts were real? How did you lead into a discussion about a demon residing within your school? All the possible ways he could've started this conversation vanished from his head – so much for the hours mulling over them.

"I have to tell you something."

"What is it?" His mother's tone was curious. She probably thought it had something to do with school, didn't even consider that something worse would be happening. His arm was aching again – he needed another dose of Advil – and he rubbed it subconsciously.

"I—"

"Maddie! Come here!"

He never thought he be so relieved to hear his father's voice intrude upon his sentence.

"Hold that thought, sweetie. What is it Jack, I'm talking to Danny." His mother crossed to peak into the kitchen, Danny following after her. On the table sat a jar of ectoplasm and his eyes immediately glued themselves too it, regarding it cautiously. It was still the same as it always had been, vibrant green and strangely luminescent. Although, he could see some finer details now. It seemed to be quivering, as though it were alive. And, as he inspected it closer, he could see that there was a flow to the material as though liquid were bound behind a plastic film, constantly churning and swirling.

His father was scooping some of the goo out onto a petri dish, but seemed to be having a great deal of trouble. "Can you hold this?" he asked, handing her the dish. His mother sighed but held it for him while he dribbled some into it.

"So, Danny, what were you saying?" Maddie turned to him with a smile.

Danny bit his lip, unsure if he wanted to proceed with his father being present. Then again, maybe it was better this way. He deserved to know it to. Then there was nothing left, the time had come. Best be as frank as possible, then. He took a deep breath.

"There's a demon in my school."

The jar of ectoplasm fell to the floor with a crash, splattering them all in vivid green slime, his parents both staring at him completely dumbfounded. Danny flinched as the material splashed him, a panic rising in his throat as he waited for it to do _something_. After a moment he wiped some off his eye, relieved that it wasn't doing anything out of the ordinary. It was hard to believe that it was sentiment, or maybe this was just a refined version? It didn't matter though; his parents were still gaping wordlessly at him.

In a strained voice that didn't sound like her, "How do you know?"

"I've met him," Danny grimaced.

"Y-you've—" Maddie couldn't even say the words, her eyes were popping. His father didn't have that grin on his face for once, possessing a seriousness that was so unlike him.

"Danny, now I know you don't believe," he said, "but we do. I don't want to hear you disrespect that."

He had expected that they might not believe him. He met his mother's gaze, his chest aching as he confessed to her. "We lied to you, that day you burst in. I knew there was a ghost behind me." Kinda hard not to, what with her whispering in his ear and whatnot. "We figured out you were right when we realized the lockers had dents. When I felt the temperature change." His throat felt thick and he paused.

"You knew?" He hated the hurt in her voice. And loved the pride.

"I didn't want to tell you yet. I wanted to tell you when it would mean the most. When I could really show you that I've come to accept their existence." _Understatement of the century_.

Jack opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He probably could understand a little better than his mother when it came to a man's pride. Danny could see that he was beginning to realize that his son wasn't making fun of them. Even though they were all covered in green goo, he didn't remark about how pointless this all was.

"But, you wouldn't be—" His mother frowned. He cringed before she could finish her sentence, knowing what was coming. "If you'd really met one he wouldn't have just let you go.

He knew that it had been coming, but he hadn't wanted it to. He hadn't wanted to show them, but it seemed that he really had no choice. And they deserved it, they were the only ones who could help him. He swallowed and said in a quiet voice that non-the-less filled the silent kitchen, "He didn't."

"What do you—"

Danny rolled up his arm, displaying his bandaged arm to them. His mother gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. Danny smiled sadly at the pair of them, wishing that they could've found out he believed under better circumstances, wishing that instead of horror on their faces there was joy and celebration. He had wanted to drop some remark about ghosts and surprise them both, before acting as though he'd always believed. Cocky, he knew, but it would've been better than this. Better than them finding out because he'd been attacked.

"He left me with a gift, and a curse."


	9. Secrets

**Author's Note**

So, this has not been proof-read. So, if you see any mistakes, just point them out to me and I'll fix them eventually. I'm rushing through Nano, so not so much editing and a lot more writing.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Nine<strong>  
><strong>Secrets<strong>

_It'__s gonna get harder from here  
>We've gotta get smarter to make it out alive<em>

There for Tomorrow – The World Calling

* * *

><p>It could've all turned out different. He could've held his tongue, could've made several wiser decisions. He could've sucked it up and let Dash have his way, he could've just run inside the gym instead of down the hallway. He could've lived never meeting Azazel, never learning that there was something <em>abnormal<em> about him, never been forced to tell his parents everything.

But it didn't.

He almost wished it had. Now he was wondering whether or not understanding the truth was worth this persecution. Whether knowing was a curse, whether he would forever miss the days when he could stride through a dark alleyway without fearing what might be lurking in the shadows. Miss the nights of careless sleep, of unperturbed dreams. Was understanding, _knowing_, worth all this tribulation?

But it really wouldn't have mattered. Whether he had remained in the darkness or he had awoken, it wouldn't have made any difference in the long run. He supposed that he had always been destined to comprehend the truth. If he had escaped the grip of the demon, fate would have found another way to make him realize, to drag him into that world with raw bloody fingernails, desperately trying to claw his way out. It held him in an iron-tight grip, bruising his arms his ankles. It was never going to let him go, never going to release him now that it had captured him.

It could've all turned out different. But it didn't. It never could.

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>The kitchen was immaculate, shiny from its recent scrubbing. The luminescent green had been wiped off its linoleum floor, the table polished, cabinets washed. The smell of the cleaning products tingled his nose, the stark cleanliness reminding him of a hospital. He himself had been subject to a washing, a feverish attempt to clean the ectoplasm from his skin and midnight black hair. Not a word had been spoken since the cleaning frenzy. As though his mother had been inadvertently trying to scrub the words out of the air, make it so she had never heard them, that it had merely been a figment of her imagination.<p>

But Danny's injury was real, as solid as the floor under their feet, as sure as the setting sun.

The three Fenton's sat together at their dinner table, each trying to avoid each other's gaze, trying not to be the first to start the conversation that would inevitably follow. Danny grimaced as a wave of pain shot through his arm, the scratches aching. There was a squeak as someone moved their chair, a running of water, and a glass was placed before him along with two pills. Danny glanced up to see his mother's sad gaze and her nod for him to take the Tylenol.

Grateful, he downed them and drained the glass. It coated his dry throat, made stickiness in his mouth lessen. He might actually be able to talk now, that is, if he had any idea what to say. He had so many questions, so many items that needed clarification that he didn't know where to start, how to begin. Finally, he opened his mouth though his eyes still remained fixedly on the shiny floor.

"Can you see them?"

He felt a hand clasp his shoulder. "Not what you can see." His fathers voice was warm, a great deal calmer than he would have expected. Danny looked up into his face, into the eyes he had inherited.

"What do you mean?"

"We, your father and I," his mother said, sounding strained as though she were resisting the urge to cry. "Can only see ghosts, only things with ectoplasm."

Danny blinked. "How does that work? Have you been stigmatized?"

"You know about that?" A flicker of a smile passed over his mother's face. It gave him strength to continue on, to speak with greater confidence.

"Yeah. You receive the Diabolical Stigma once you've received an illness or injury from a demon."

"But there are different types of stigmas," his mother said. "Your father and I have a weaker one, the Malignant Stigma." She paused a moment, glancing at Jack before continuing on. "We can only see ghostly phenomena."

That explained why his mother wasn't paranoid outside. "How did you get it?" Danny asked, his hand moving unconsciously to his forearm.

"We're not entirely sure," his father said slowly.

"I've been working on a theory. And this," she nodded toward his arm in an offhand sort of way, "fits with what I have come up. Depending on the power of the demon, and the severity of the injury they bestow, the more you are able to see."

"We got sick one day, and that was it. Never even met the fellow who did it."

It made sense to Danny, a little. But something stopped him from nodding his head. True, the demon king had drawn blood, but what he said made him thing there was something more than the demons themselves. "I don't think that's right," Danny said slowly.

"What do you mean?"

"I think that the extent to which we can see is because of us, more so than it is about the demon that touched us."

"What makes you say that?" Danny almost wished his father didn't understand. That he cracked some ridiculous remark. This wasn't what he was used to and it was weird.

"J-just what it said to me. I think that the ectoplasm itself is what allows us to see and when we've been touched by something like that, they cause the veil to be pushed back. But – and I'm shooting in the dark a little here – we have to have some kind of predisposition to them in the first place, and then they come like bacteria to the wound, infecting it with themselves, allowing us to see ghosts and demons alike."

Danny looked up and realized that both his parents were staring at him. Had he actually said something smart then, or was it because they couldn't believe the idiocy that was coming out of his mouth? Then his mother cleared her throat, looking suddenly cautious.

"What did it say to you?"

So it was the former then. He couldn't really feel very pleased though. It had only come about because of a situation he'd rather not have gotten himself into. He didn't know why it was so much harder to tell his parents this than it was to tell his friends of even Mr. Worth. Shouldn't he be _more _comfortable with them than with anyone else? Even though he asked that, he already knew why he wasn't. He already knew why he hadn't wanted to talk to them about it at all, why he had tried to avoid this as much as he could.

He was scared they were hiding something from him.

"H-he said—" could he even say it? No words were coming out, his voice had frozen. His father's grip tightened, but not painfully. It almost reassuring, a comfort that he would never let go no matter what was said. He could count on his Jack Fenton for that, count on him to never face the monsters alone. He took a great shuddering breath.

"T-the ectoplasm likes me. He—He said, Daniel Fenton. The boy who has touched ectoplasm since birth. What _are you_?" He looked from his mother to his father, hating the way his vision blurred before his eyes. "W-what did he mean? What—what am **I**?" He could feel the tears of panic and fear pricking at the corners of his eyes. He was fourteen! Fourteen-year olds did _not_ cry!

"Oh sweetie." His mother wrapped him in a tight hug, his father enveloping the both of them with his massive arms. Danny clung to them for dear life, burying his head in her shoulder, hiding the moisture that betrayed him. It felt like an eternity since he had opened up like that to them, since he had felt safe in their arms. A part of him mused at how confused Jazz would be if she walked in on them, clinging to each other like this.

"Now Danny, I need you to be brave," his mother broke the hug and looked into his eyes, her own shiny with water. "And you need to listen to what I am going to say."

Danny nodded, feeling like a child as he wiped his nose on his sleeve.

"We—we worried that you might've been able to see them since birth, that you might have some connection to them." His mother's face was stark white by now, her lips trembling. "T-the night that we received the Malignant Stigma was also the night we conceived you."

_Daniel Fenton, you have the touch of my spirits_.

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>"<em>Have you ever felt the temperature drop in a room, the prickling on your arms? Realized the change when those around you remained oblivious? You can sense us, can't you Daniel Fenton?"<em>

It made sense. It made terrible, clear sense to him now. The mystery was unraveling, the panic that had been attacking his mind was giving way to understanding. He was perfectly normal, and yet at the same time, he was nothing near the word.

"_I know of all things concerning my spirits."_

"_You—your spirits?"_

"_My Spirits." _

His spirits had touched him since the beginning, the very first time his cells divided. He was surprised he hadn't always been able to see them. Had they tried and failed? But then, they hadn't really failed. If Danny thought about it, he had always been able to sense the cold spots in a room, always known when someone was looking at him from across the room. Maybe they hadn't been able to unveil his eyes because he hadn't opened them yet. Maybe the ectoplasm needed a wound in order to dive into; they needed that touch of evil in order to fester and so they could only give him their impression.

In a way, he was always destined to see them.

"Danny?"

Danny looked up at his father. He had never seen him looking so ashamed, so full of regret before. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked him a hoarse voice. He could feel the prickling of anger, bubbling just beneath the surface. A fury that they had kept this from him, that his life had been ruined from the very beginning. He clenched his fist, trying to keep a rein on his emotions, trying to control himself.

"Would you have believed me, if I had told you?" Jack asked very quietly. "By the time you were old enough to receive this knowledge, you wouldn't have listened to me. It was all, ghosts aren't real, and you guys are crazy and, I don't want any part of it!" He folded his arms.

"A-and we didn't think there any point," his mother added shakily. "You weren't able to see them, and so we thought—we thought—"

"That I might never need to know," Danny finished softly, the anger ebbing away as quickly as it had come. "You didn't want to burden me with something that I might be able to escape."

"I'm so sorry, sweetie." She was hugging him again. "T-this is all our f-fault."

"Mom, please don't cry," Danny said, a lump forming in his throat. He couldn't take it when Sam cried, let alone his own mother. Not even Jazz. He couldn't take it when they were sad, it made him want to punch something. "I-I don't blame you." And he realized that he truly didn't. "It's not your fault."

"But it is! If we had only k-known—"

"It's the demon's fault," Danny said firmly. "And look at it this way, now I can see the bastard."

His parents didn't even reprimand him. Jack gave him one final squeeze before letting him go, turning around. "I'm going go downstairs, I have something I need to work on," and like that he was gone. Danny stared after him, realizing that he had never once seen his father moved like that, never once seen him hide his face. Maddie watched him go, a soft smile on her lips. She turned back to Danny, and he was relieved to see that the guilt was fading from her face, that she was instead beaming at him.

"Are you okay, sweetie?"

Was he okay? He paused a moment, assessing everything he had shared and learned. He had never even had a chance at a normal life. But, he wasn't really angry at that fact. It was depressing, a tad maddening of course, but he accepted it. Imagining a life without all this, well, it'd be boring. He wouldn't know what to do with himself, he'd never had anything different. It was almost funny, how much he'd wanted to be normal not five days previous and now he was content with the fact that he had never been. That his whole life had been leading toward this moment, that it had been something written in his DNA since the very beginning.

He was meant for this life.

"Yeah," he found himself saying, slowly. "I think I will be."

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>"Arise and shine, sleeping beauty."<p>

Something large and soft smacked him across the face, jolting him out of his sleep. He blinked open his eyes, rubbing away sleep for a moment before focusing on the two people standing smugly beside his bed.

"Sam, Tuck, what are you doing here?" he grumbled rolling over. His parents hadn't let him go to sleep until late that night. He had been forced to recount for them the entire incident with Azazel and they had been concerned with the bump on his head. So, he hadn't been allowed to sleep until nearly three while they triple checked the status of his concussion – and discovered he didn't really have one anyway.

"Dude, its nearly one!"

He felt someone pulling on his covers, trying to yank them off. "I was up late," he said trying in vain to hold onto them.

"We know, your mom told us when we came in, nearly an hour ago." Sam sounded like she was laughing. "She told us it was about time you got up."

"Why?"

"Because, loser, we're going to see Bloodbath 2." With an almighty tug, the blanket was ripped from under his fingers. He groaned and sat up, ruffling his already horrible bed-head.

"Tuck downloaded it," he said glancing at his friend, wondering why on earth he hadn't told Sam yet.

"You what?"

Oh. Right. They were going to tell her together, like ages ago. Danny laughed as Sam threw the blanket back at him – hitting him in the face for the second time that morning – before turning on Tucker to demand why she hadn't heard about it yet. Life felt almost back to normal.

_Almost._

"We were going to tell you—"

"How about _before_ I buy the tickets?"

"You already bought them?"

"Yeah!"

"Can't you just get a refund?"

"They need at least twenty-four hours!" Sam folded her arms, looking cross. "So I don't care, we're going to the theatre tonight."

"Can't we see a different film then? We'll watch Bloodbath 2 here, and something else there."

"It doesn't work like that Tucker, you buy the tickets for select movies!"

"Okay fine, the theatre seats are way comfortable anyway."

Danny cleared his throat, sensing that their row was coming to an end. Tucker looked a little annoyed that he hadn't stepped in to take some of the heat, but the expression vanished quickly.

"How did it go, last night?" he asked him. Sam took a seat on Danny's other side, anxiety flooding her features.

"Fine," Danny said.

"Really?"

"Yeah, well, at first they didn't believe me." He grimaced. "But, eventually I guess they had to. They knew I couldn't make any of this up."

"And what did they say about—" Sam trailed off pointedly.

Danny didn't open his mouth right away. He actually wasn't sure that he wanted them to know. Would they think any less of him if they knew? Would they start to treat him like the plague, like a demon? He bit his lip, fighting with himself. But, they had believed him even when they couldn't sense anything themselves. They trusted him. He needed to trust them too.

"My parents got their stigma the night I was conceived."

Sam opened her mouth to say something before Tucker interrupted her with his laughter. She stared at him affronted. Danny turned to look at him too, his mouth slightly ajar. Had his brain short-circuited, or something?

"Is that funny?" Sam asked sharply.

Tucker sniggered again. "That had to mean there was a demon in the room."

"Right," Danny said slowly.

"Well, that's one perverted demon."

Immediately, they all broke into laughter. Danny's gut was hurting. Of course, Tucker would think of that, being rather perverted himself. "Oh Tuck," Danny said with a grin. "What would I do without you?"

"Be depressed."

Another wave of laughter rippled through them. "C'mon," Sam said nudging him. "Get out of bed."

"Yeah. All right."

She and Tucker went downstairs as he went into the bathroom. His reflection gazed back at him in the mirror, his icy blue eyes clear and bright. Calm was settling upon his mind, relaxing him. He took off the bandage on his arm, inspecting the damage. It had scabbed now, though it still looked a little inflamed. It could probably use some air. He was just getting undressed when his eyes flickered to a clump of coal tar lurking in the corner. He turned toward it, holding a hand out toward the creature. It blinked those vibrant green eyes, tilting its head to look at him before floating toward the air toward him, coming to rest innocently upon his hand. It was kind of cute, after looking at it for a while, Danny reasoned.

He let the thing float in the air as he took a quick shower and dressed, amused when it followed him out into his bedroom and then down the stairs. It was hovering right above his shoulder now, watching him with those wide curious eyes. He mused it was probably trying to make sense of what exactly he was too. It could probably sense the touch of both the ectoplasm and Azazel. As he entered the living room, he panicked when he saw his mother for a moment. Would she notice it?

"Good morning sweetie!" Maddie grinned at him, putting what looked like a vacuum on the couch and giving him a hug. He took that as a no then, considering that her hand almost wacked it off his shoulder. He doubted she would've even felt it. "They're in the kitchen eating some sandwiches I put out for them."

Danny nodded. "Thanks," and he returned her hug for a moment before rejoining his friends.

"Take long enough?" Tucker teased him, working on what looked like his third sandwich.

Danny rolled his eyes. "I was still tired." Sam rolled her eyes.

"Whatever."

"So, Danny!" he turned as his father's voice intruded upon their conversation. He was standing in the doorway to the basement, covered in sheet-rock. "Don't forget to keep hammering into the wall today. You had a free pass yesterday, but—"

"Dad!" Danny said with a groan. He held up his arm pointedly. The shower had made it look wet and sticky, as though it was still trying to scab. He watched as his father deflated slightly, that same expression of pain that he had worn the night before crossing his face for a moment. But it was gone in a flash.

"Get your friends to help you!"

"But, we wanted to go to a movie!"

"Do it before you go."

"Matinee is cheaper," Sam said with a frown.

"Then do it when you get back."

As frustrated as this was making him, Danny liked the fact that normalcy was returning. His father's ability to act like nothing had happened was really a skill. Half the time his father _forgot_ to do something his mother asked, he wondered whether or not he really had or he was just utilizing this natural survival technique. It still irritated him when he wanted to have a day with his friends though.

"Can't I have this day off?" Danny asked frowning.

"No shirking from your chores." Jack grinned. "It'll be waiting for you when you guys get back." And then he was gone, dashing upstairs toward the Op-center.

"He just wants you to do the dirty work while he messes with some invention, doesn't he?" Sam said with a sigh.

"Yeah, pretty much." Danny rolled his eyes. "Sorry guys."

"Nah, it's fine. Maybe Miss Invisible will show up again!" Tucker said with a grin.

Danny laughed. "Right. Anyway, what time does the movie start?"

Sam checked her watch. "Ah crap, we gotta go now if we want to get some decent seats."

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>The movie played before him, cheesy special effects mashed together with an overdone plot that hyped the terror when there really was none to speak of. Sometimes they had a good piece, but most of the time they were just the substandard horror that wasn't scary, but really entertaining. He loved those kinds movies. But this time he couldn't focus on it. Maybe it was because of the conversation he'd had with his parents, maybe it was his newfound ability, or maybe he was just being paranoid.<p>

But he was freezing cold.

He sunk back into the theatre seat, into the dark red cushions, trying to ignore the way his arms were prickling. Twice he glanced over at Sam and Tucker, wondering whether or not they felt anything. But they were only paying attention to the movie, occasionally remarking on some special effect or instance of horrible acting. They didn't notice anything. Danny took a deep breath, trying to tell himself that it was only his imagination, that the theatre was always a little cold.

"I'll be right back," he said standing abruptly.

"What? The best part's coming up!" Tucker said without looking at him.

"I know," Danny brushed past them. "I'll be back." And he was sprinting up the dark stairwell and out into the bright lighted concession stands. He needed to get a grip, seriously. If he hadn't seen this movie before he would think that the horror was starting to get to him. He shook himself and disappeared in the bathroom. He leaned over the sink and splashed handfuls of cold water onto his face and neck. It didn't help that the speck of coal tar had followed him from home. It watched him curiously now, cocking its head as though confused by his behavior. Danny tried not to look at it, and would've thought that it was causing the temperature drop had not a wall of heat hit him along with the light.

"I don't suppose you know what's going on?" he asked the thing with a sigh. It blinked at him. "No, I didn't think so."

He yanked a few paper towels out of the dispenser and dried himself off, sincerely hoping he wasn't going crazy. He walked back out into the main area of the theatre, glancing at the lights. Nothing flickered, and warm heat reassured him, although, even with that, he hesitated to return back to the movie. It was almost instinctual, some primal alarm in his head that told him to stay on his guard, to be cautious.

His friends didn't say anything to him as he returned to his seat, engrossed as they were in the climax of the film. Danny honestly tried let the movie capture his attention, tried to let the drama suck him in and allow him to forget his troubles. A chill crawled up his arms not five minutes in, turning his blood to ice. He clenched his fist and cast his eyes around the room. Theoretically, now he should be able to see the darn thing, right? He squinted toward the dark corners, the ceiling but nothing came into his field of vision.

"Hey guys, maybe we should get out of here," Danny muttered to them, unable to shake the feeling. His muscles felt tight; as though he were coiled to spring, ready to burst into flight. "Something doesn't feel right."

"Wha—?"

"It's _cold_," Danny said in an undertone, hoping they understood.

"Just after this part," Tucker said waving a hand to quiet him. Danny frowned, irked. They didn't understand! This wasn't something that you could just ignore! He _couldn't_ ignore it any more; it was starting to suffocate him.

"No, we gotta go. Now."

Finally, Tucker broke contact with the screen and looked at him. Sam too had turned in her seat. They both worse the same perplexed expression and it was frustrating him. Now didn't mean turn and stare at him, it meant get up and get out of the theatre.

"Danny, what's going on? You've been tense the entire second half of the movie." Sam said raising one of her eyebrows.

"Because I've been freezing my ass off for the last half of the movie," Danny snapped.

"I'm fine…"

"Exactly. We have to go. Now."

"But Danny—"

She never got to finish her sentence.

The screen before them had died, the movie cutting off abruptly, plunging them all into darkness. But it wasn't a natural darkness, wasn't the type that happened when one just killed the lights. It was thick and heavy, as though they had all been covered with a blanket. Within moments, panicked voices were everywhere as people tried to figure out what was going on. Danny felt his lungs strain, breathing growing more difficult in the pitch-blackness. He couldn't even see Sam and Tucker, even though they were right beside him.

"Danny, what's happening?"

"I don't know." He gritted his teeth.

"Okay, next time Danny says out, I say we go out."

"Thanks Tuck."

"Yeah, that's great. But now what do we do? I can't see a thing in here."

"We could try to feel out way out."

"And get trampled by the forty other people trying to do the same thing? No thanks."

Danny frowned, trying to think. They _could_ just wait for the blackness to dissipate, but he didn't like that idea. Not at all. For one thing, the people around them were starting to get very loud and panicked. For another, the temperature was dropping steadily now. Whatever it was, it was in the room with them now – hence the total blackout he assumed – and his last encounter hadn't turned out so pleasant. He'd never forgive himself if Sam and Tucker got hurt, not when he could've warned them the instant he felt the inclination and not at the last moment.

"Maybe I can call my parents," Danny said digging his hand into his pocket. He had their number on speed-dial; he wouldn't need to see the numbers.

"Don't bother," Sam said with a grumble. "I already checked; there's no service."

"Fantastic."

And then the laughter started; horrible teeth shattering laughter that filled not just the air around them but invaded them as well, as though it was inside their heads. Danny knew that laughter, had heard it before. He slouched down in his seat as though trying to hide, but it made no difference. Materializing out of the mist, the blackness warping to form his malevolent face was Azazel. His glimmering yellow eyes were inches from Danny's, his smile wide. Danny could hear his friends trying to talk to him but their words were lost before they reached him, the blood pounding in his ears.

"Daniel Fenton," Azazel breathed cocking his head. "Aren't you always in the right place at the right time?"

Danny swallowed. "That's a matter of opinion," he croaked.

The demon laughed loudly again, rattling Danny's bones. His brain was in lockdown, trying to figure out what was happening. Why was the demon _here?_ Wasn't it supposed to be the haunting school or something?

"Enjoying your sight, I see," the demon went on, his eyes flickering to the coal tar that rested on Danny's shoulder. Danny glanced at the creature and saw that it had expanded, now roughly the size of a hamster. It was watching Azazel cautiously, almost guarded as though it wasn't sure if he would attack or not. So, not all demons trusted or got along with each other then.

"W-why are you here?" Danny asked, hating the way his voice shook slightly. He tried to make up for it by raising his chin, staring determinedly back into those yellow eyes.

"Granting the wish of the ectoplasm."

"What—"

The demon disappeared in a swirl of smoke before Danny had even started his question, the penetrating blackness returning before his vision. The laughter shook him once more, but it sounded impossibly loud now. Danny put his hands over his ears, trying to block it out. His ribs were rattling around, knocking against each other. And then he heard the demon shout into the sky, cackling words that enveloped them all in a wave of impossible sound.

"Amity Park. _Awaken_!"


	10. Revealed

**Author's Note**

Hello guys! Sorry it took me a little longer to get this chapter out to you, I had a few exams that killed my time. In any case, I hope the length makes up for the wait - this is the longest chapter yet! I'm not as happy with it as the one before it though. Things have slowed down a little, but promise to pick up speed soon. I apologize for any mistakes you might run into. I'll edit them all out during December. ^^"

Questions, Comments, Concerns? Please drop a review!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Ten<strong>  
><strong>Revealed<strong>

"Don't matter if you believe in them or not. If they're there, they're there."

Joan Lowery Nixon, _The Haunting_

* * *

><p>The world is not ready for truth.<p>

It rejects that which is forced upon them, that which is different and panics under the strain of having to change their mentality in order to accept a truth they weren't ready to understand. That is why the best change occurs one person at a time, when the world is able to morph and adapt to the slow progression of change, at times hiccuping as a particular idea snags on previously conceived notions, before finally coming to a new realm of thinking.

Perhaps it was only through the grace of God that they didn't collapse upon themselves, that the truth forced upon them did not immediately turn them into savages searching for something familiar. Perhaps it was because the ectoplasm had known _this town_ could withstand the fearsome pressure placed upon it now, that the people within it were remarkably able to adapt to the new circumstances. But he didn't think so.

Something told him this had been bound to happen, one way or another. That the land upon which they stood was cursed with a sore curse, that the ghost activity had only just been waiting for an opportunity to spread their wings and cover the city in darkness. That they had been waiting for that touch of evil, for that entry point for them to dive in.

It was their fate. To be the most severely haunted town in all of America.

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>"Amity Park. <em>Awaken!<em>"

He was holding his breath, eyes straining to see through the blackness. And then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone. The lights flickering back into life, the movie stuttering for a moment before picking up where it left off, blasting them all with a wall of sound that they were not prepared for. It was as though someone had un-paused the world, had set things back into motion with no indication that something extraordinary had occurred. But of course, something _had_ happened.

Danny had yet to figure out _what_ though.

Now that he could see them, he turned to his friends. They looked all right, white-faced and shaken, but unharmed. Danny frowned, trying to understand too many things at once. What was Azazel's motive by saying that, what did he mean? When he had said it to him, he had given Danny the Diabolical Stigma. If he hadn't scratched everyone in town – and it certainly didn't look like it – what had he done? Danny frowned, pushing Tucker and Sam out with a nod toward the exit.

This time, they didn't question him and darted immediately for the door.

"W-what happened?" Sam asked once they were outside, her violet eyes wide and panicked.

"What did you guys see? Did you see anything? Hear anything?" Danny needed to know. He managed to keep his voice steady, not betraying the turmoil that he felt at the moment. Panic, anger, and joy. A selfish joy that maybe he was not longer the only one among his friends.

"I—"

"It got really cold," Tucker said with a shudder. "And I heard the same laughter from school."

Danny nodded. "What else?"

Sam opened her mouth but a cough interrupted her words. "Ug, sorry. I hope I'm not getting sick," she grumbled covering her mouth. Danny wouldn't have thought it weird if Tucker hadn't just started hacking as well. The blood in his face drained as he watched them, stared at them.

"He gave you—" He couldn't even say the words. He was torn between leaping with joy and despair. He could have prevented this, could have gotten them out of there. Couldn't he? Or when Azazel said Amity Park had he spread his malignant fingers to every corner of the town, not just the theatre?

"Gave us what?" Sam shot when he didn't finish his sentence.

"The—" he swallowed. "The Malignant Stigma, I think."

"The same thing as your parents?" Tucker choked in between hacking coughs.

Danny wasn't listening; other coughs were intruding upon his ears. His eyes turned to survey the entry to the theatre, to the people leaving and entering. They all were coughing though at different degrees. It was everywhere. He hadn't given the people the stigma; he'd given it to the ground they walk on. Almost comically, Danny's head dropped down, staring at the carpeted floor.

"Danny?" Sam said, and he felt her poke his shoulder. "What's going on?"

Danny looked up at her. "We should go talk to my parents. Now," he added when another wave of coughing hit Tucker, making him lean over for a moment to catch his breath. Sam didn't argue. She merely nodded and led the way out, covering her mouth every few minutes. Danny watched both of them apprehensively. How sick would they get? His parents had never really gone into deal concerning the Stigma because, obviously, he had his own story.

Not for the first time, he wished he could drive a car. Sure, the movie theatre wasn't far from his house, but merely seeing every pedestrian attacked by a fit of coughing was doing little to calm his nerves. It really was _everywhere_. The whole town! He suggested that he call his folks to just come pick them up, but his friends said it was fine. He had the nagging feeling that they were hoping to see something now, see some shadow as they walked down the road. And since he wasn't sure whether or not they actually would, he was forced to let them do so. He would've been entertained by their constant looking around if he wasn't so concerned by their coughing. And, after what seemed like an eternity, they came to his house. Danny took the steps two at a time and threw open the door, his eyes finding his dad sitting on the couch with the ecto-pulse gun and a screwdriver.

"Dad!" He said rushing over to him.

"That must've been a really short movie, or you are eager to get to work downstairs!"

"Dad—"

"My little boy, finally getting interested in ghosts. I knew this day would come."

"Dad!"

"What's the matter with your friends?"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you!" Danny snapped. He took a breath, glancing back at Sam and Tucker – who were coughing again. "Something happened in the theatre. I think they got the—the Malignant Stigma."

The smile fell from his father's face. "Maddie!" He called. "We have a problem!"

"More than one," Danny muttered.

"What's that, Danny?"

"I—Well, I think that the whole town got it too."

Danny rarely, if ever, saw his father's face pale. There just wasn't much that scared a ghost hunter, he supposed. After all, they'd seen a lot and probably worked up a tolerance so that they could keep a level head in tense situations. It meant quite a lot when the color drained from Jack's face, leaving him pasty white.

"Maddie!" He shouted, an urgency in his voice that Danny had never heard before. "You might want to hurry it up!"

"What happened?" his mother called from the top of the stairs. Within seconds she had joined them, her kind face tight with worry. Tucker coughed loudly again and Jack gestured toward the couch.

"It'll pass in a moment," he told him. "You and Sam sit down, put your heads between your knees – that helps."

"Jack—?"

His father surveyed his mother for a moment, the grave seriousness on his face surpassing words. "It happened," he said quietly.

"What happened?" Danny frowned. "Mom?"

"Maybe you should first tell us, sweetie," she countered. "Because, I think you know."

Danny stared at her for a moment before realizing that she was right. Or rather, realized that his original assumptions had been correct. Maybe he had a little bit of his parent's intellect – even if mathematical calculations were completely lost on him. "The demon stigmatized the city."

His mother nodded and he took that as an initiation to go on. "He touched, not the people, but the ground. It's ingrained. And that means…"

"We've become a ghost hot-spot."

Danny paused, puzzled by this. His friends had stopped coughing by now, allowing silence to fall upon them. Something about what his mother said didn't sit well with him. "But, wasn't it already?" he asked slowly. "I thought that's why you moved here."

His mother smiled sadly. "While its true ghost activity has always been a higher here—"

"But why?" Sam had gotten to her feet. "Why is this place being targeted?"

"We honestly are not sure." Jack scratched his head. "We think that the wall between us and the Ghost Zone is thinner here, easier to access than most places but we could be wrong. Ectoplasm is simply drawn here."

_The ectoplasm likes your town_.

"In any case, now ghosts and the like will swarm here." His mother seemed conflicted between happiness and grief, as though that news was good and bad. Which, Danny reasoned, it was. To a ghost hunter and scientist, it was one of the best things that could ever happen. It was like a paleontologist being thrown into a world of dinosaurs, able to study their field much more effectively. Except now, there was a danger factor – namely T-Rex trying to eat you. They might not be dinosaurs, but Danny knew the same idea applied here.

"The city has been tainted by a King of Spirits, allowing for the ectoplasm to fester – just as it did to give you your stigmas. I assume that was caused by the initial wound he did to the membrane between the two dimensions, anyone within the city got blasted. It looks like the only the weak version of it, but it'll mean that people will actually start to see the ghosts. It'll probably also give strength to the specters that come here, allowing them to actually become visible to those without the stigma – so even those who weren't here an hour ago will still see the spirits."

"In sort," Danny said slowly. "We're going to become a tourist destination. Because, we're suddenly one of the most severely haunted cities in the world, right?"

"That about sums it up."

_Granting the wish of the ectoplasm_.

Another moment of silence followed Maddie's words. One thing was for certain; his parents were finally going to have their reputation restored. They'd no longer be the crackpots firing at the shadows. The shadows would look back and everyone would be able to see it. That small fact comforted Danny. Sure, this wouldn't have been the way he would've wanted to gain some respectability for the Fenton name, but he'd take what he could get.

"So, what happens now?" Sam asked softly, glancing toward Danny before returning her focus to his parents.

For a few solemn minutes Jack was silent, gazing at the floor with something akin to horror on his face, then he looked up. And he grinned. "Now you, young man, finish that portal downstairs."

Danny stared at him. "Seriously? We acknowledge this town has become haunted, and you want me to finish that stupid hole in the wall?"

"Yes!"

"You've got to be kidding me." It was as though, after the initial panic and shock of the situation, they were perfectly fine with it. As though nothing had really happened.

"Sweetie, now we just learn to be more careful," his mother said, returning to her usual self. A smile was even tugging at her lips. "We've been living with ghosts already, only now everyone else will be able to see them too."

"But, what about—"

"Well, more might show up," his mother allowed with a sigh. "But we knew it had to happen sometime. This place has always been bouncing with activity."

"So what, life just goes on?"

"Yup! Now we continue our experiments and inventing with even greater vigor!"

Danny dearly wanted to smack his hand against his face, but refrained. Of course, his parents would think this is fantastic. A little life threatening, but overall a huge breakthrough for their profession. If they started taking house calls like a pair of Ghostbusters he might have to disown himself.

"Now, go finish breaking the wall! If we're lucky, your father and I can start installing it this weekend!"

"I've been meaning to ask," Sam said looking just as appalled by the whole situation as Danny felt. "What exactly are you building? I don't think we ever bothered to find out what with the excitement of the last week."

His mother and father beamed, as though they had just been asked the name of their newborn baby. But then, their excitement made sense. The fact that the increased ghost activity was being viewed as a good thing, made sense. Why they were so eager for Danny to rush down into that metallic basement and keep hammering away made perfect sense.

They had moved here because of the activity, because they knew that here was one of the few places that they could actually succeed in their endeavor. The activity made it that much more likely that they would accomplish a goal they'd had for a very long time. A dream come true, rushed back from their college days. Back when they were young and imaginative and had asked how come they couldn't just go into that world that lied out of their vision. It was their need to discover, to explore, to reach into the untouched realms of the universe and examine it under a microscope. They craving desire to go further than anyone had ever gone before, witness a new plane of existence.

"A portal to the Ghost Zone."

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>Sometimes, after experiencing the thrill of terror living with the mundane everyday is unbearable. That was certainly the way that Danny felt. Being sent to work on the portal was perhaps the only thing that made any sense in this new and improved town, and even then, it was a settle back into normalcy that was almost disconcerting.<p>

It was as though the demon had never come, and if he had not been able to see the coal tar floating and swirling in the darkest corners of the streets he might've believed it had all been a brightly colored nightmare. But it wasn't. And it killed him because everyone was acting as though it had been.

He had arisen the next morning, settled himself in front of the television hoping to catch some inkling of the situation on the local news. But aside from reporting about the strange electrical outage and a widespread cough that seemed to be sweeping the inhabitance, there was nothing. He didn't know what he had expected, some special about a ghost haunting the box store on First Street? Had no one seen _anything_, in the whole town? Or had they seen something and merely hadn't realized what it was that they had seen?

He felt the absence of exhilaration and fear like a knife in his side. He knew it was strange, that _wanting_ something weird to happen again was like asking for his own personal death sentence. After all, there was no way to know that the next time he encountered a demon or some other paranormal entity he'd live. And yet, he craved the thrill that came with the unknowable. There was only so much he could ponder, could wonder about what and why Azazel had done this to his town. Why the ectoplasm liked it enough to draw a demon king here. Only so much _sitting around_ he could do before it started to drive him nuts. It frustrated him, made him even more eager to go downstairs and start hammering at the wall. Every cracking blow made him feel that much closer to the paranormal world that had suddenly clouded his vision had filled him with this strange desire to learn and see more. To understand what in the world was going on. His parent's hardly knew any more then he did concerning the manner of the tainting, only that they had been expecting something like this to happen. They weren't even sure why it was going to happen, only that their small pathetic city held some of the highest emitted ectoplasm levels in the entire world – part of the reason that they had settled here, and part of the reason they were so eager for the hole in the wall to be finished.

According to them, it was one of the few areas in the world where the dimension bleed through into the waking world with relative ease, as though the membrane was thinner here for one reason or another. It was one of the few places wherein a portal could actually be constructed. Of course, there was a voice in Danny's head that told him that it was both incredibly stupid and dangerous to build a portal, an open door to the realm of demons. They had no idea what to expect, no way to know what was waiting for them on the other side. Danny was curious and cautious regarding the matter. It would be cool to see into that world, but not if doing so would unleash some dark terror on the town.

When he had bought this up with his parents, they hadn't seemed bothered. In fact, they had seemed excited that something might come through the gate. It was a little concerning, but Danny would trust their judgment. After all, they were the experts on the matter – even if they sometimes acting like children, giddy with no real worry. But that was nothing new, they had always acted like that and it bothered him to no end. For the first time, he felt like the only adult in the world, the only sane person who truly understood that this was no laughing matter. Something serious was going on, and not even his own parents seemed to acknowledge that fact. Now he could understand how Jazz felt most of the time, her frustration at the lack of any logical thought or understanding.

And, if he had hoped his friends would back him up, would share his concern he was sorely mistaken. True, they had discussed it at first, had shared some worries and theories as to what had happened and why no one else had noticed anything yet. But soon, their conversation turned to the mundane, classes and the like. He had tried in vain to bring them back to the subject of ghosts.

"It's not that we don't care," Sam had said, "I just can't think of anything that we can do about it. I mean, if something is going to happen, then it will."

It was so anti-climatic and he hated it. Maybe that's why, sitting in advisory that Monday morning was so particularly unbearable.

"Dude, you all right?"

Danny blinked and looked up at his neighbor, struggling for a moment to remember the boy's name. Marty? No, Martin. That's right, the sophomore.

"Fine," Danny said turning back to the window. Today even the Coal Tar seemed to be toying with him, hiding themselves in all but the darkest of corners. He felt as though everything was luring him into a false sense of security, waiting until he and every other person thought nothing of the last few days before striking. If anything, it made him even more edgy.

Martin seemed to know that there was something off. He didn't look at all satisfied by Danny's answer but he didn't press him. Danny was rather glad he didn't. There was really no way for him to say what was bothering him without appearing insane.

"Have a good weekend?" Martin asked tentatively.

Again, Danny paused before he answered. Not just because his weekend had been terribly complex, but he was also rather confused by Martin's attempts at engaging him in conversation. Truly, the only people he ever really talked to were Sam and Tucker. It was almost strange that he someone else was trying to befriend him, especially after the chaos that was last week. Shouldn't he be avoiding him or making degrading remarks?

"Are you sure you want to be seen talking to me?" Danny asked dropping his voice to an undertone. His eyes flickered to Dash in particular, but luckily the football star was talking to someone else while they waited for Webb to call the advisory to order.

Martin stared at him before grinning. "Course I do. I don't care about who your parents are, or whatever." He paused. "I thought I told you this last time."

Danny shrugged. He sort of had, but not so explicitly. "Um…" Danny scratched the back of his neck, feeling slightly awkward. "My weekend could've been better," he said finally, surprised by his honesty. To his surprise, Martin laughed and nodded.

"I feel you there, man. I got this bug on Saturday, nearly coughed my lungs out."

Danny felt his heart skip a beat, his breath shallow out for a moment. "Really?" he said trying to be casual.

"Yeah! And, apparently I wasn't the only one," Martin went on. "It was all over the news the next day, some flu going around." He paused a moment. "You didn't get it then?"

Danny shook his head. "I didn't, my friends did though," he said slowly. He dearly wanted to ask if he'd seen anything unusual since then, but there was no way to ask that question and be casual about it. Or at least, he didn't know how to ask it without feeling like an FBI agent trying to investigate a murder. "I got stuck helping my parents remodel all weekend."

"Bummer," Martin laughed. "Still, at least you were doing something."

"All right class," Webb called over the din and the class melted back into silence. Danny glanced at her, noting that she seemed even more disheveled than the first time he had seen her. Her pants were ripped and had what appeared to be grass stains, her shirt wrinkled and a hair too large for her. She looked more like a sleep deprived college student than an actual teacher. "It's only been a week so I hope that none of your are failing your classes yet." There was a ripple of laughter through the students, Danny found himself grinning.

"But just to make sure you're getting back into the rhythm of school life," here she glanced meaningfully toward some of the older students, "I'm going to be calling you each up one at a time and checking things over with you. While I'm doing that, the rest of you will be playing a game." She paused a moment before glancing down at her sheet. "You guys can do another name game, would you rather, or—"

Martin had raised his hand and Webb nodded toward him. "Ninja attack?" he asked hopefully.

Webb shrugged. "Meh, sure. Why not?"

Martin and several other students whooped. Danny smiled but felt the knife in his side again, the bliss ignorance of the people around him slightly irritating. But then he was forced to stand and join in the game, and he found himself having fun in spite of himself.

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>"Danny?"<p>

"Wha— Ouch!" Taking advantage of Danny's temporary distraction, Martin jabbed him in the ribs.

"Ha! You're out," he said with a grin. Danny rolled his eyes.

"I have to go out anyway, it's my turn apparently."

"Oh. Right. I knew that, man."

"Sure you did," Danny said over shoulder as he walked up to the front of the room. He'd never played Ninja Attack before, and he had to say, he found the game rather hilarious. But it was frustrating when people cheated – namely Dash. Or they hit too hard – again, Dash. Finally, Webb had decided to split up the class into two different games, one Ninja Attack and another playing something called Signs. Dash was playing the latter, much to his and – probably everyone else playing Ninja Attack – relief.

"So, how are you doing Danny?"

Now that he was up close, he saw how very tired she looked. The bags beneath her brown eyes were sunken and purple, her skin pallid. He almost wanted to tell her to get into bed that instant, sleep for two days straight before coming back to teaching.

"_I'm_ fine," he said. "Are you okay?" he asked, unable to stop himself.

She stared at him for a moment before breaking into giggles. Danny couldn't quite understand what was so funny when she said, "You're sister asked me the exact same thing when I first met her. And here I was wondering what was similar about you too."

Danny blinked. "Oh," he said wondering whether or not that statement should offend him. But then, he understood his teacher's amusement. If he looked at it like Jazz was a perfectionist and he was easy going. They didn't even look all that similar either; at least, he didn't think so.

"Well, I'm a little worse for wear than usual, but I'll live."

Danny nodded then went with his impulse once again. "Can I ask what's wrong?"

This time Webb did not laugh. She merely appraised him for a moment, as though seriously considering his question. "I have a chronic illness," she said simply. "Sometimes it's worse and sometimes it's better, but we're not here to talk about me." She waved the subject away with her hand. Danny wasn't satisfied with that answer, but knew it was all he was going to get. Maybe he could ask Martin if he knew anything more later.

"Your schoolwork looks fine so far, so that's all good," Webb went on, glancing at her computer screen and Danny saw that his grades had been pulled up. After she'd said that though, she closed out of the page, revealing a bamboo background. "I have heard that you've been to the nurse several times last week, though." Worry flashed across her face for a moment. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah," Danny said just a hair too firmly. When she raised her eyebrow at him he merely shrugged, but did not elaborate. Just as she was hesitant to share the inner details of her life, he did not like everyone knowing about his. He could handle Dash on his own.

"Bullying isn't something you have to handle on your own," she said softly. "There are people you can go to for help."

"Are we done?" Danny asked shortly.

Webb merely sighed but nodded. "We are. But Danny," she said before he could get up and leave. "My door is always open if you need to talk or just vent. Don't wait until it's too late."

Danny met her gaze for a moment. He knew that she was being sincere, but he felt that spilling his secrets to her would do no good for him. He doubted there was really anything she could do about Dash and there was his own pride to contend with on that matter. He wanted to deal with it himself. And as for the other matters, well, he really _couldn't_ talk to her about that.

"Hey Martin," Danny said when he returned. The sandy haired boy was sitting on top of his desk, watching the last four people fight it out.

"Hey, it go all right with Webb?"

"I think so," Danny replied with a shrug. After a moment he asked, "So, do you know what's wrong with her? I mean she looks so—"

"Sick?" Martin sighed. "I know she's an insomniac, but she told me once that she's got some chronic condition."

"Yeah, that's what she said when I asked."

Martin nodded. "It's one of the few things she doesn't really talk about, even if you ask her. Usually she'll answer anything if posed the question."

"I hope it's nothing serious," Danny said with a frown. Although he didn't know her very well, he liked her classes. Coming from a family of scientists, it was no surprise that he had some interest in the subject even if it wasn't his best.

"Nah, I don't think so," Martin said, though he didn't seem very sure.

Danny opened his mouth to change the subject to a more cheerful topic when coughing interrupted him. Martin covered his mouth, hacking loudly for a moment before regaining his composure.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "Probably leftover from this weekend."

Danny nodded, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He savored the feeling, the adrenaline rushing through him. He couldn't hear anyone else coughing, so it was very likely that it was just a coincidence, a fact that disappointed him – which in turn made him feel slightly guilty about wishing for something exciting to happen. But something told him that, eventually, something would. Something big.

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>"You have a serious problem when it comes to obeying orders." He wasn't angry; she could hear only the barest hint of annoyance in his voice.<p>

"I thought them more as of a friendly suggestion."

"Not anymore."

She nodded, the smile falling from her face. "All right."

It was strange that even though he wasn't yelling at her, wasn't reprimanding her for her misconduct she swore he was. It might even be better if he was. He was worse when grave seriousness possessed his features.

"Shall I leave the book with him, sir?" she asked in an offhand sort of way, wringing her white hands together. "Or retrieve it while he sleeps?"

"I think we can leave it in his possession. It may even be better off that way."

She was waiting for him to broach the subject, to begin conversing that _actual_ reason that he had summoned her to him. They both knew what it was, both knew what had happened. When he didn't say anything, she took the initiative.

"What are we going to do?"

"This isn't something that can be undone."

"I am perfectly aware of the current— er… I know _that_."

He nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. "Well then, considering the dilemma we find ourselves in we should – as you would say – push on."

She rolled her eyes. "Might've once said. But that's not an answer either, you know. Everything is going to change in this town and soon, I just can't figure out why it hasn't happened yet."

"The calm before the storm," he said with a wave of his hand. "A stigma received via a Land Putrefaction works differently. While the inclination has been bestowed upon everyone who was in the town at the time, it won't manifest until triggered."

"Triggered?" She folded her arms. "Triggered by what precisely?"

He shrugged. "I assume by some ectoplasmic event."

"Azazel's presence wasn't enough?"

"No, not quite. He was the one to perform the putrefaction of the barrier and got the first wave going. Nothing has really changed since he left."

"He just left? Before the ritual was complete?"

"Apparently," he ran a hand through his hair. "He had other business in the country to attend to. Or at least, that's what my informant told me. But then again, we don't really know what is the next step in this process. I can find very little information on it, even in the old texts."

"I see." She paused, mulling this over. So the Land Putrefaction _had_ been a success, but there was another step to be done. She would never say she wasn't thrilled that the King of Spirits was gone – because she was – but what did that mean for Amity Park? "So, you don't know what needs to happen next?"

"Needs?" He chuckled. "Why Flynn, you'll make me think you want this to happen."

"I don't _not_ want it to happen either. It's not a bad thing for someone like me."

"That is very true," he looked thoughtful again. It was an expression that was at home on his face.

"You would think that _you_ would be trying to stop it," she said with a tilt of her head.

"Why, of course not. It'd not such a bad thing for humans."

"Isn't it?"

"Well, we'll have to look over our shoulders more often, I'll give you that. But for someone like me, the chaos will be beautiful to behold as everyone tries to understand exactly what is happening."

"But there's _nothing_ happening yet." She sounded truly annoyed by that fact.

"Yet." He chuckled. "I believe it takes time for it to soak through the earth, to reach the Otherworld."

"And then the trigger."

"And then the trigger," he repeated with a smile.

"Forgive me, but under what circumstance— I mean, do you have any idea what the trigger could be? Any at all?"

"Why, so you can go warn young Daniel once again?"

She didn't reply and he laughed, though this time the sound was a great deal colder than before. A biting edge making her take a step back from him. "I won't," she said softly.

"You would," he countered, "but you do not need to. In all reality, I have no idea what will happen or what needs to. As I said before, there is almost no information about it, even to someone with my connections. Perhaps a swarm of ghosts invading, perhaps a simple thunderstorm, or maybe Azazel will return in a week and finish it. It's impossible to tell."

"And… what happens after?"

"Chaos, Miss Flynn. Glories Chaos as the town learns to fight against a new type of terror."


	11. Trigger

**Author's Note**

Two days left of Nano and only 1,263 words to go. Can I do it? Absolutely! Haha, I think this arc will actually be longer than 50,000 words - since I have projected that Danny will be getting his powers Chapter Thirteen and that's where I want to end it.

Just a quick note on the first scene of this chapter, the two characters are _not_ from the Danny Phantom or Supernatural fandoms. They are from An No Exorcist.

Please enjoy and don't forget to drop a review. They motivate me to work. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eleven<strong>  
><strong>Trigger<strong>

I used to believe that anything was better than nothing. Now I know that sometimes nothing is better.

Glenda Jackson

* * *

><p>"What is Azazel <em>doing,<em> brother?"

He frowned, the apathetically curious voice on the other end of the receiver difficult to mistaken. Granted, they weren't actually brothers – he had a tendency to refer to most demons as brothers, or at least, the ones who fell into a similar circle of power as he did. They weren't blood related, but then Satan wasn't actually their father either – they just referred to him as such. But, he was the first to fall and they followed after him, he became their leader and their king. The head of their twisted and demented little family, and so he became their father and they his children. Maybe that was why so many of them were inclined to mate with the humans they ensnared – there wasn't that awkward family title to get in the way.

Or whatever.

"Amaimon, recall that I am in Japan. I believe Azazel has taken to traversing the American continent, and I neither know or particularly care what our elder brother is up to."

Older and slightly insane demon that's higher up on the food chain might've been a better description than 'elder brother' but there you are. He leaned back in his chair, drumming one of his long fingers on the elegantly carved armrest. He hoped that his _little brother_ would finish this conversation soon. The bill for a call to Gehenna wasn't a pretty one and he was a greedy creature by nature – even if he definitely had doe to spare.

"He's performed a Land Putrefaction, brother."

His back stiffened, he sat straighter, his venom-green eyes narrowing. Land Putrefaction was by no means an easy task, nor was it particularly common. Azazel was probably one of the few that could successfully accomplish such a thing, what with the ability to converse with ectoplasm necessary. He had heard that a few of his other brothers could accomplish it as well, but Azazel took the medal for understandable reasons.

"Where?"

"Amity Park." There was a pause on the other line and he could just envision the younger demon shrugging. "It is just festering right now."

"How do you even know? Aren't you with our father at the moment?"

"News travels. Azazel left the location and fathers not terribly pleased by that. You know how he is with jobs left unfinished."

"Indeed," he nodded absently, stroking his goatee. "So the decomposition has yet to be finalized?"

There was a sound of confirmation from Amaimon. "If a priest get wind, it could still be undone at this stage."

"Well, we certainly wouldn't want that." Areas that could actually sustain one were few and far in between. More often then not they were underwater, but no demon wants to live down there – except for a select few. "Where did Azazel _go_?"

"Some other state apparently. One of his minions sent word back saying that something urgent came up."

"Another one of his ingenious plots, then?" He sighed, rubbing his eyes. That demon had too much fun on that continent, causing problems every which-a-way. He almost envied him; he didn't have exorcists breathing down his neck. But then, he also had to make regular visits to their father below _or_ keep finding meat-suits to inhabit. One would almost think he couldn't manipulate the ectoplasm at all. "Did he say he would return?"

"He did not."

"Fantastic. Is someone else being sent up to finish the job, before the Vatican or some hunter gets wind?"

"Yes brother, but it probably won't be pretty. Beleth is being sent up."

He cringed. Beleth wasn't his first choice for the job that was for sure. Death seemed to follow that brother around like a plague – he rode a pale horse after all. "Belial or Alastor can't do it?"

"Alastor isn't on good terms with the ectoplasm at the moment, and Belial has something else he's up to."

"Well, I hope there's enough left of that town when he's done."

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>The next week passed without much incident, or at least, without much incident as far as paranormal activity was concerned. Dash was still as unmanageable as he always had been, which was probably why Danny didn't feel the need to join any sports activities. He got enough exercise merely trying to dodge and avoid Baxter. At least he didn't bother him very much in the locker-room anymore – Danny suspected that Nurse Daisy had something to do with that, though he wasn't quite sure how she had done it. Though, that didn't stop him from singling Danny out during P.E. itself – which was fast becoming his least favorite subject, even after math.<p>

Actually, mathematics wasn't terrible. True he was still awful at it, but Mr. Worth had the patience to teach him. He'd taken to tutoring him during his lunch periods – he got a better grade _and_ avoided Dash. It was two birds with one stone, really. Sam and Tucker were a little miffed by his sudden obsession with school work, but they left him to it. It got his mind off the more pressing matters, allowed him to stop thinking about Azazel and stigmas and ghosts. If only for a brief while. He could never allow the subject to leave his mind completely, would never want it too. He knew that the instant that he let his guard down that it would be the day, it would happen.

Of course, he had no idea _what_ would happen. Or When.

He heaved a sigh and glanced back down at the science textbook that was open across his desk, the anatomy of a frog doing little to interest him at the moment. Having just finished the cellular unit – which had been painful to say the least, especially considering that his attention had been on other things at the time – they had moved on to the basic anatomy of organisms. The only interesting thing he'd learned so far – that he hadn't already known – had been that some frogs change their sex when trapped in a single sex environment. He and Tucker had sniggered at the idea for a short while, until they had imagined turning into girls. The one upside to this unit was that they would get to dissect a frog instead of a final exam and that would be _way cool. _

"Can someone tell me what organ this is here?" Webb called from the front of the class, gesturing to a large diagram of a frog on screen. She glanced around the room, and then her eyes met his. He didn't look away in time.

"Danny! Can you enlighten us?"

Danny glanced quickly back at his book. "Um… the liver, right?" he said tentatively. She smiled, nodded, and went back to her lecture, which now related the functions of the liver – a basic overview he assumed.

"Dude."

"Yeah, Tuck?"

"Are you almost done with that portal thing yet?"

Danny nodded. His dad hadn't been letting him hang out with them after school until after he had finished the portal – something he had mixed feelings about. No kid would like being unable to hang with his friends after school, but at the same time he was rather eager to see the thing completed. Granted, he wasn't near as excited as his parents were, it _had_ been their life dream.

"I finished last night. Dad just wants me to help him clean up the mess so that he can get to work actually building the thing."

"Really?" Tucker looked thoughtful for a moment. "How look will it take him and your mom to finish it, do you think?"

"I dunno, maybe another week or two? They already have all the material bought and anything that could've been assembled ahead of time has been finished."

"Cool." Another pause. "Can I come and see it, when it's done I mean?"

Danny grinned. "Of course dude."

"Hey," Sam hissed from his other side, looking rather cross that they hadn't bothered to include her in the conversation.

"Yes, you can come too Sam," Danny said with an eye roll. As if he would be able to keep her away from it anyway. Or would want to. While ghosts were no longer the main topic of the majority of their conversations, she till took it upon herself to research the topic every night for him. Not to say that he didn't too, looking for something that mentioned giving the land a stigma, but it was nice to know that she was still very much invested in ghosts. Tucker not so much, he tended not to care about something until it was right in front of his face.

"When do you think you'll be done?"

"Well, I got homework too so…" he paused a moment, thinking it over. "How about right after dinner?"

"Wait, so seven?"

"Yeah, that sounds good. Shall I come up to your place this time?"

"Yeah," Tucker grinned. "That way your dad can't rope you into any other projects."

"Okay, Sam?"

"Yeah, I'll be there."

Danny considered asking if he should bring the book from Miss Invisible, but quickly disregarded. Tucker probably didn't want to spend their time going over the subject. He sighed and Sam looked at him quizzically, though she didn't say anything for Webb was now handing out worksheets. A simple fill in the blanks of the diagram type paper, but it'd probably take up what was left of class period. Danny didn't talk much while he worked on his, Tucker and Sam providing more than enough conversation. They were trying to figure out what they were going to do, whether or not she should bring a movie or a game or something. Usually he would join in, help steer the conversation toward a horror film or a sci-fi game, but lately he couldn't bring himself to do it.

He knew he'd end up turning it into a conversation with ghosts.

Then, a short coughing fit seized Sam making him glance at her quickly. It was over in a moment, and she shrugged in reply to his cautious expression before returning to her paper. This wasn't anything weird either; ever since the incident she and Tucker – as well as every other person in town – experienced bouts of coughing. However, it was never at the same time and he couldn't correlate it to anything. All anyone thought was that there was a persistent flu going around, though he knew better. He would turn sharply every time, watching_, waiting_ for something to happen. Something to break this unbearable spell of boredom that had settled over him.

He _knew_ he was going to end up regretting that, but he was young and impulsive. He didn't always think before doing something, leaping without looking.

Ten minutes later, the bell blared signaling the end of class and freedom. He packed up his stuff with a smile; chuckling as his two best friends argued over which game they would entertain themselves with tonight. Danny decided not to get in the middle of it – since the guy code demanded he side with Tucker and he didn't want to encourage Sam to berate the both of them.

Now to get home.

Science was one of the few classes that did not have Dash in it – Danny assumed he was taking history this semester instead – and though it was nice _not_ having him in the same room, it also meant he could ambush him when he came out into the hall. It was rather painful the first time, being tackled bodily to the floor. Although, that seemed to be all he dared to do right in front of his Advisor. In any case, it meant that he left the room after Sam and Tucker, peering around them like some four year old before actually leaving. Tucker thought it was hilarious.

"Do you see him?" Danny asked.

"No dude," and Danny followed him out into the hall – though that didn't stop him from walking a little closer than usual to his friends. Tucker chuckled. "I feel like we're a couple of body-guards."

Danny opened his mouth, but something very hard had just collided with him making it a tad difficult to say anything intelligible. He was slammed against the lockers, though he'd had the sense to turn his head to the side so that his nose wasn't smashed, _again_. He spluttered, getting back to his feet as Dash sneered down at him before striding away with his arrogant head high in the air.

"Who can't actually guard," Danny shot crossly, hoisting his backpack back onto his shoulders.

"Right…"

"Well, look at the bright side," said Sam. "At least he'll leave you alone now."

You know how the instant you say, 'this couldn't get any worse' and then it immediately does? Somehow, Sam's words had the same effect. There was a furious yell – which, by the sound of it Dash had failed an assignment for one of this classes – and then a thunderous shout that sounded _vaguely_ like Danny's last name. He knew he didn't have anything to do with the poor grade. Dash just wanted someone to take out his anger on and Danny happened to be within eyesight.

"I'll see you guys later," Danny called to them over his shoulder, already pelting for the doors. Tucker shouted something after him but his words were lost as Danny was washed by warm sunlight. But he didn't slow down; he probably wouldn't until he absolutely had to. He wouldn't doubt it if Dash chased him all the way home – or into some dark alley. Danny grimaced at that and pushed the thought from his head. He could hear Dash approaching and tried to increase his speed, though he knew it was fruitless. Dash had much longer legs, could cover twice as much distance…

Throwing caution to the winds, Danny dove into the street receiving a few honks as he jay-_ran_ to the other side and then turned down the first street he came to. He took another sharp turn, almost zigzagging, trying to lose him. When his lungs were burning from the effort, he turned again and crouched down behind a trash bin. He clapped a hand over his mouth and nose trying to quiet his ragged breathing. He couldn't hear Dash's footsteps anymore, only the sound of the passing cars. He didn't move though – just in case. As he waited, a flicker of black caught his eye and he turned.

Coal Tar.

There were maybe six or seven pieces, all looking curiously up at him. He smiled back at them, the thudding of his heart slowly returning to normal. He was so used to seeing them around now. He almost liked their presence, appreciated their constant reminder and the curiosity they called to the surface. The one that had sat on his shoulder at the theatre had stopped following him around town, seeming to prefer waiting for him back in his room. He held out his hand, letting them circle around it for a moment. Then the patter of shoe against asphalt reached his ear and he dropped his hand, pressing himself tightly against the grimy wall of the alleyway.

If Dash found him here…

"Danny? Is that you?"

Danny blinked and looked up into a freckled face. "Martin!" he said getting to his feet. "What—" he glanced around him, back down the alleyway. "What are you doing here?"

"I saw that Baxter kid rush in here." The sandy-haired boy shrugged.

"So you just followed him?"

"Oh please, he's gone now. He got turned around at that second junction." He grinned. "I was a little curious, so I kept walking through. Surprised I found you, actually."

Danny grinned at him, dusting some of the dirt from his pants. "Thanks. Least I know that this trick works now."

"Yeah." Martin's eyes narrowed, but only just. "This happen a lot?"

Danny shrugged, not feeling particularly keen to talk about it. "Not really," he said attempting to sound casual. Martin didn't buy it. He raised one his eyebrows as if to say, "Really?"

"Regularly," Danny allowed. "I've worked out a schedule by now."

"Right." Martin sighed, but to Danny's relief didn't press the issue. "C'mon, I don't fancy standing in this alleyway."

"Uh, yeah." Danny nodded and walked beside him as they headed back to the main street. It was silent for a few minutes, but it was a comfortable silence. He didn't need to say anything, but he wanted to.

"So, how've you been?"

Martin shrugged again, though Danny saw a smile playing about on his face. "Pretty good, I guess. Been working on a new song."

"Song? You're a musician?"

"Yeah." Martin glanced at him and grinned broadly. "Guitar."

"Acoustic or electric?"

"I dabble a little into both actually, but mainly electric." He laughed. "My parents hate it."

Danny blinked. "How come? I thought they would like it if you're doing something musical."

"Yeah, but they don't like me playing while they're in the house and they never seem to leave." He sighed, shaking his head. "They don't think it's a good career either. You know, the music industry is a little dodgy."

"Um…" Truthfully Danny had no idea, having never really looked into it himself. All he knew were his favorite bands and when a live concert was within driving distance, otherwise he didn't care much for the drama.

"It's hard to get started and make money," Martin explained, seeing the blank look on Danny's face. "You have to be true to yourself, but also market it to the masses. I dunno, they want me to do it as just a side thing. Or maybe I'll just become a Hobo playing on the street for coins," he laughed though it sounded to Danny as though he seriously _had_ considered that option.

"Well," Danny said running a hand through his hair. "You don't have to decide now do you? I mean, you still have two years before you graduate."

"That's what I told my folks." He shrugged. "Anyway. Which way is your place?"

They had come to the main road. Danny was relieved that he couldn't see Dash in any direction. He gestured to a large metal contraption that was just visible on top of a house a few blocks down.

"That's my place."

"Somehow, I think I should have known that."

Danny laughed. "Yeah, probably."

Martin nudged him in the ribs, and indignant "Hey, give me a break!" on his breath, making Danny only laugh harder. "Well," he said after a moment. "I'll see you tomorrow at school then. I'm in the other direction."

"Right, see you!" Danny said, giving him a wave as he started to walk.

"Try to stay out of trouble!" Martin shouted after him.

For once, Danny couldn't reply to that statement with the affirmative. He only nodded and waved again, before heading down the street.

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>He dumped the dustpan into the trash, coughing as some of the dust fluffed up into the air. He waved at it, trying to get it to dissipate before turning to the completed hole. Or, as completed as it could be being a giant gaping hole that opened up into the black void of the space behind it. It was actually quiet a bit larger than he thought it would be, the gap behind the as perfect a circle as could be managed large enough for him to walk into and stand. It was freezing cold inside, his breath coming misting before him.<p>

He grinned. Strong ghost activity then. Apparently his parents had been _very _thorough with where to build this portal of theirs. If it didn't work here, Danny had no idea where it would. He stood there, suspended in the cold blackness for a few moments. His heart fluttered with excitement, the prickling on his arms felt good after so much inactivity. He wanted to know what would happen when it would be finally completed. He was so eager he had half a mind to call Tucker and cancel, just so he could help his dad begin the installation. Of course he _wouldn't_ do that though, Tucker would probably come and drag him out for some healthy normal life. He chuckled at the thought of it and stepped out of the hole, dusting off his clothes as he did so.

That was it then. He stared at it for a moment longer before grabbing the bag out of the trash and tying it closed. His mom had probably finished cooking dinner by now and after a speedy homework session – good thing that he didn't have very much – and he would be off. He couldn't even remember now what they were going to do. He was just trying to remember when a tremor rippled through the ground beneath him.

He froze. Had that just been an _earthquake?_ They didn't get earthquakes here. At least, he didn't think so. He remained still for several minutes, wondering whether or not it was his imagination. But it wasn't. The ground shook again, harder than the last time before stopping abruptly. If he didn't know better, it was like someone was trying to start a faulty engine…

And then they finally succeeded.

He was thrown to the floor as a violent quacking took a hold of the earth. He yelled, trying without much success to get back to his feet. Instead he ended up crawling across the floor – which was moving in such a way that he had never seen before, the metal of his parent's lab bended and moved with the earth, like waves were ripping across the surface. The door was thrown open and the rest of his parents tumbled down the stairs, landing in a haphazard heap on the ground beside him. Glass beakers were shattering as they fell to the ground; the tables were bouncing, his father shouting for all of them to huddle together. He didn't really have a problem with that; it was _getting_ over to them that was the issue. He did make it though, eventually.

His sister's face was stark white, and she seemed to be mumbling something to herself. Danny couldn't really understand, it sounded like some sort of calculation or else notes. His ears weren't working properly and the alarm that had suddenly started blaring wasn't helping matters. He could feel his mother gripping tightly to him. He wanted to tell her that she was hurting him, wanted to ask his dad to stop shouting _back_ at the alarm, but he didn't. His icy blue eyes were wide, soaking up the thrill of the adventure.

Something had finally happened.

Of course, he knew it wasn't a good thing. The lights went out then, plunging them all into pitch black and silencing that blasted alarm. It was kind of cool, he thought. Sitting there while everything that should have been solid moved. But he was a little concerned over how _long_ it was going on. True, he had heard that time seemed to go on forever when your stuck in a situation like this, as though time slowed down, but this was a _really long time_. He bit his lip, shutting his eyes. He hoped their house wouldn't collapse. It wasn't made to withstand this kind of pressure, the lab maybe, but not the actual house. And if someone got hurt—what if Sam or Tucker got hurt? He shivered, finding himself praying for the speedy end to this catastrophe. He would never forgive himself if they got hurt from something that he had been _hoping_ would happen. Then at long last, after what seemed like an eternity, the rumbling stopped.

He didn't move – couldn't move would be more accurate – for several minutes. His mother's ironclad grip was definitely going to leave a bruise. He tried to take her hand off with his other hand and after a moment she seemed to come to herself and let go.

"Is everyone all right?" she asked hoarsely.

"Yeah," Danny said massaging his throbbing arm. "Jazz?"

"It's—It's just not possible. Tectonic activity hasn't been documented in this area for nearly a millennia, we just aren't in a suitable position. Nothing I've read explains why—"

"Yeah, Jazz is fine." Danny rolled his eyes, a move that no one saw in the darkness. That solved the mystery as to what notes she had been muttering during the event. Sometimes Danny thought she seriously needed to go to a spa or something and just _relax_. Let go, loosen up, release control for a little while. Then again, this might be good for her, if she realized that she wasn't _always_ right.

Or she could turn into a babbling idiot and they'd have to institutionalize her. Maybe he could turn her room into a game center.

"Jack?"

"Just a second."

Danny blinked as a beam of light fell on them. His father had finally found the flashlights then. He was a little surprised though, he hadn't even heard him moving around the room.

"Right, we have just experienced a paranormal event."

"It was an _earthquake!_" Jazz said almost shrilly. "Not a—"

"Er, Jazz? Give him the benefit of the doubt. Just this once," Danny shot across her sentence. "Unless you have a better explanation why there was an earthquake in a non earthquake prone area?"

She glared at him, but didn't say anything. His father looked immensely grateful and cleared his throat. "Be very careful as we ascend the staircase. We need to check the state of the rest of the house and the town. Stay behind me, try not to make any sudden movements."

Danny felt idly like he was half expecting someone to attack them. Then again, maybe someone was. Danny could feel the temperature dropping steadily, and after his mother shot him a worried glance, he knew that she did too. Ha! Now Tucker would _have_ to—

"Tuck!" Danny ripped his phone out of his pocket. No service, just his luck. He felt a hand on his shoulder and was surprised to see Jazz.

"They're okay," she said firmly. Danny stared at her. He had never seen her look so freaked out in his entire life. It was a Kodak moment, really. "They're all okay." She seemed to be trying to convince herself more than him. He nodded mutely and followed his orange-jump suited father up the stairs. The wood creaked from under his feet, seeming a great deal louder than he recalled them being before. Jazz didn't remove her hand, but he didn't shake her off. He could feel her quivering slightly and knew it was more for her own stability that she held onto him. He would tease her about it later, _after_ she had bounced back to her usual annoying self.

He couldn't see the rest of the house when his father opened the door, his sheer bulk blocking his vision, but then he moved aside. Everything was still standing at least, though it was a terrible mess. Several cabinets had been thrown open and bits of food and glass littered the linoleum floor. Some of the chairs had fallen over and the table had moved several feet from its usual position. He could see that the kitchen window had shattered and some disconcerting cracks were evident in a few walls. His father led the way over to the living room. Dark golden late afternoon sunlight streamed through broken windows, causing Danny to blink rapidly after the coarse darkness of the lab. At least the TV hadn't been damaged, he thought with relief. His father seemed equally happy by the fact, glancing back at him and nodding toward it with a large grin. And then he opened the front door.

Even though it was far warmer than it had been down in the basement, Danny was struck by how cold the late summer day felt. It felt a good five degrees – or more, he was so very terrible at math – than he would have expected. But that was only his first impression; more important matters were rising to the surface as he glanced hurriedly up and down the street. It mimicked the mess of their house, though on a much larger scale. The asphalt had large cracks and bumps in it, several fire hydrants gushing water in torrents over their respective sidewalks. The sound had also returned, the alarms of cars that had been jostled just a little too much combined with the shouts of neighbors and families checking if everyone was all right. Fire sirens blared through the streets, and police cars sped past. Danny looked at his mother.

"I need to go check on Sam and Tuck," he said firmly. She looked as though she wanted to shoot that idea down, but must've seen the determination in his face. He was _not_ going to take no for an answer.

"Okay, just be very careful. Okay sweetie? Oh. Take this with you," she handed him a small ecto-gun from her pocket. "Just in case."

Danny nodded, pocketing the thing – it was about the size of a peashooter – before taking off at a run down the sidewalk.

The destruction in this section of town was a little worse. He could see that a few roofs had collapsed and a telephone pole had sliced one house in half. He grimaced at the sight, sincerely hoping that everyone was all right. He checked his phone again and though it said he had service, he got an annoying message of 'all lines are busy, try again later'. What good was a cell phone if it didn't work in an emergency situation, really? He turned the corner and spotted Tucker sitting on the steps to his place, his parents conversing behind him, Sam next to him.

"Tuck! Sam!" Danny shouted.

Tucker jumped when Danny said his name, and he looked up quickly, breaking into a relieved smile. Danny saw that he had a scratch above his left eye. He looked like he wanted to jump up and run to him but Sam had a hand on his arm, keeping him there. She looked okay, shaken, but okay.

"Danny! Thank God you're okay. We tried to call—"

"Yeah, I know. The phones don't work." Danny had reached them. He gave Sam a tight hug, before turning his attention to his best friend. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Tucker grimaced. "I'm fine, I think."

"He got knocked out," Sam cut in. "He got hit in the head from one of his Dad's old baseball trophies."

"I didn't even know your dad played."

"Neither did I!" Tucker said exasperatedly. He groaned, and clutched his head. "He had hidden it away on the top shelf. Who knew that was why they kept those things in trophy cases."

Danny laughed. "At least you're okay. Do you have an ice-pack or anything?"

"Mom and Dad are a little too nervous to go back into the house to fetch me one." Tucker sighed. "Our house isn't really meant to withstand something like this."

"I don't think any of ours is," Sam said, folding her arms. "I mean, we don't get earthquakes here."

"It wasn't an earthquake," Danny said slowly.

"Uh, dude? That's what it's called when the earth shakes."

"No, I know I mean—" Danny glanced at Tucker's parents and dropped his voice. "My parents say it was a Paranormal Event. Probably caused by what the demon did last Saturday."

There was silence after he had said this words, or at least, the absence of speech as the world around them was very loud. Tucker opened his mouth, and then shut it again furrowing his brow. Danny could probably guess what it was he wanted to say, simply because it was on his mind as well. What had would happen now? What did the earthquake _do_ or rather, what had caused to ground to shake like that if it _hadn't _been an earthquake?

At long last, Sam said, "Your parent's didn't say anything else, did they? About what might happen next?"

Danny shook his head. "No, but my mom did give me this," and he produced the small weapon from his pocket.

"That's comforting."

"Hey, well at least if something happens we're prepared, right?"

"Uh, guys?"

"It also means that something _might_ happen," Sam went on, ignoring Tucker.

"Maybe it's just a precaution type thing."

"…Guys?"

"Or a warning."

"You're a ray of sunshine, aren't you?" Tucker had started tugged on Danny's arm. "What is it, Tuck?" he asked finally, turning toward him. Tucker was staring up at the sky, and it was then that Danny realized _what_.

Though the sun still shone from his place in the sky, his light not longer touched the ground around them. It was as though some kind of filter had been placed over the sky, casting everything into shadow even though there was no obvious reason for it. Danny slowly got to his feet, his friends joining him as they stared up into the sky. The ground started shaking beneath them again, but this time it was almost like a soft hum, barely noticeable. After a moment it had disappeared and screams filled the air.

"What's happening?" Sam shouted over the noise.

Almost instinctively, Danny cocked the weapon. And then, from right before them, rising out of the ground like an elegant cloud of mist was the spectral form of a dog. If he was shocked, it was nothing compared to his friend's. Tucker's maw was hanging open, Sam's eyes popping. It looked at them curiously before taking off down the street. All around them, mist was taking shape, sometimes out of thin air, sometimes rising out of the ground.

Danny exchanged looks with his friends.

"I'm going to need a bigger gun."


	12. Chaos

**Author's Note**

A little warning for this chapter. I know some people are touchy about religion in stories, and characters finding faith in God. Well, I hope I don't offend anyone by having something to that effect mentioned. It's hard to write something concerning ghosts and demons without also acknowledging the other side. In my mind, you can't have darkness without the light. (Demons without Angels) and since Supernatural is intertwined in here, we might actually see a few - though I have no idea at this point.

A lot more excitement in this chapter. I hope you all enjoy it. Only one more before the end of the arc. And, with November thirtieth, well, I've made it! Fanfiction seems to have added several thousand words as well... but on my Word document I have finished National Writing Novel Month with 53,284 words. WOOT!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twelve<strong>  
><strong>Chaos<strong>

Blame is just a lazy person's way of making sense of chaos.  
>Doug Coupland<p>

* * *

><p>Azazel was going to get it for this one. True, a trip topside wasn't exactly bad, but he didn't like cleaning up after his ADHD brother. He needed to focus on one project at time, not begin one to fancy a whim and leave it half finished to attend to another one of his <em>projects<em>. But their father below wasn't terribly irate, apparently he approved of the game that Azazel was amusing himself with at the moment – even if he was a tad irritated that he had taken this little detour in the first place.

Wouldn't stop him from giving him a piece of his mind though.

He wasn't really cut out for this Land Putrefaction business anyway. He didn't like _coaxing_ the blasted ectoplasm to do his will. He wanted the blasted stuff to do as he commanded and that was that, but of course, it didn't work like that. Bloody green slime. If it weren't such a vital piece to Hell he would've just obliterated the substance and be done with it, but as it were.

He was overdoing it a little though. The ritual didn't demand much, and somehow Azazel knew how to do it without the human inhabitance becoming aware of anything. But as such, his shock-wave had been a little too strong. What did he even care? It was a plus if a few humans were crushed in the process, in fact it annoyed him that he'd been asked _not_ to wreck havoc on the town. Just finish the job and come back home. That in itself made him boil with wrath, froth with anger. The crimson demon shouted to the sky, a gut wrenching wail that sent out an energy pulse.

He couldn't stay long. No demon could, not unless they were in their weakest state, forced to entice men to allow them into their hearts and take over their bodies. He would rather do that, to be honest. Anything to have an actual _body_ and not this monster of smoke and energy, but he couldn't finish this task in one of those. It would disintegrate.

"Hear my call, all ye who crawl," he whispered, producing a hellish blade and drawing it across his palm. "Slither out of your hell, arise in a mighty swell. Wash over this putrid land, engulf it and never disband. I commend it to you; turn the human's world askew. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Curse this earth, to thee I entrust."

And the world darkened as they heeded his call.

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>It was the beginning and it was the end. It was the conclusion of one section in his life, the termination of one way of thinking and way of conducting himself. And, it was the entry into a new realm of thought and a brand new world, the train ride that would never again take him back to the place he had once come from.<p>

Danny Fenton was running, as fast as he could back to his house, back to his parents. His friends were in tow behind him, as were their parents. Well, at least, Tucker's parents were. They _had_ stopped by at Sam's house but her parents had decided not to join them, for reasons that Danny didn't know, nor did he particularly care about. All he cared about was getting back to the safety of ghost hunting parental units. He skidded to halt as a ghostly woman came into form before them, her white sightless gaze staring right through them before drifting almost dreamily into the street.

"What is with these ghosts?" Sam muttered to him, watching the lady apprehensively. "It's almost as if—"

"They fade away as soon as they appear," Tucker finished. And, true enough, the lady then melted away into nothingness.

"Maybe they're those weak energy ghosts," Danny said. "Like they were brought up here, but they can't stay for more than a few seconds before going back."

"Then, where are the stronger ones?"

Danny didn't answer her. He merely started running again, calling for them to hurry up. He had no idea what was going on. Ghosts were everywhere and _everyone_ could see them, but they weren't attacking anyone. They hardly seemed to pay any attention to the people of the city, and then they just evaporated. It was strange, and eerie, their blank staring eyes sending chills down his spine. He couldn't fathom what exactly was going on, and the only people he knew who would were less than a block away.

"Jack, wait!"

They rounded the corner to see Maddie grabbing a large gun out of her husband's hand. She muttered something to him but cut off abruptly when she saw him. "Thank goodness, Danny," she said dashing over to him. "Everyone, inside. Jack!"

His father cast another cautious look toward the floating mailman before following her inside. And, without skipping a beat, Danny and his friends followed after them. After everyone was in the living room – including Tucker's parents – Maddie shut and locked the door behind them. Everyone started talking at once.

"What exactly is going on?"

"Maddie, what's happening?"

"There are ghosts out there. _Ghosts_."

"Does this have something to due with the Stigma?"

"What's up with these ghosts?"

"I don't understand—"

Maddie held up a hand, silencing them all. Danny recognized the glimmer in her eye, the intelligent, taking charge woman was about to emerge. He honestly thought she was cool when she did that, admired how she could just withstand the chaos of a situation and form a coherent plan. "Everyone, I know this is a lot to process. First you need to understand this, _ghosts are real_." She looked meaningfully at the Foley couple and at her daughter Jazz – who was sitting with her knees huddled against her chest on the couch.

Danny felt just a little bad for her. Her whole world of logic and reason had fallen down about her shoulders.

"Second," his mother continued, "A demon has performed a stigma upon the town, allowing the people here to see ghosts and the ghosts to enter our dimension with less difficulty than before."

"Our…town?" Mrs. Foley spluttered. She looked clammy, almost as if she were about to faint. "But why? How?"

"I don't know why. This place has always been a little more, ah, high with ghost activity than normal. We could never figure out why. What we do know is that this is the work of a demon."

"A demon."

"Yes."

"Maddie," Mr. Foley broke in with a nervous laugh. "I'm as God fearing as any honest Christian, but that sounds just a little absurd. That just _can't_ happen."

"And why not?" His mother met his gaze evenly. "You acknowledge that Hell and Satan exist and are trying to tempt us into damnation, correct?"

"Yes, but—"

"This is him trying to reach into our realm. I can't get into the specifics now so I'll merely recommend an informational book and ask you take my word for it." Mr. Foley didn't look entirely convinced but nodded for her to continue all the same. "Now, ever since the land got the Stigma – last Saturday, right Danny?"

"Yeah," Danny answered, and his friends nodded with him.

"Well, I've been trying to research what is going on, but I can't find anything. I found a mention of it, but it was in Japanese and I can't read the characters very well. But, what I believe it said is that after initial bestowing, the curse must be sealed and then it will take effect. I sent an email to the writer – a man named Mephisto – but I haven't heard back yet. In any case, I believe that this is what is happening now."

There was a moment's silence. "The curse is… going into effect."

"I believe so."

"Is there any way to undo it?" Sam asked. "I mean, some kind of counter-curse or something."

"This isn't Harry Potter, Sam," Tucker shot a little more sharply than normal. He caught himself right after though and muttered a soft apology. His mother looked grave.

"No. There isn't. Not when we've reached this stage."

"And," Danny asked slowly. "Which stage is that?"

"Everyone who died in this town in last two hundred years takes form." At the gasp from Mrs. Foley she quickly added, "They don't stay. They disappear after a moment or two."

"But why?" Danny pressed, his brow furrowing with confusion.

"I could barely read it, but it has something to do with the cursing of the land. Apparently their appearance and following disappearing is what seals it. The ectoplasm organizes to form the ghosts of those that died – mere echoes, not even the actual spirits of those peoples – and when they fall apart they are imprinted in the ground. At least, that is my understanding."

Danny nodded. That made sense, what little he could get from it anyway. But, what happened after every spirit had been formed and then disappeared? He knew he wasn't the only one on this line of thought. Sam met his icy blue gaze with her violet one, biting her lower lip and wringing her hands.

"And, then?" finally Mr. Foley pressed. He looked rather pale now, the arm he had wrapped around his wife shaking slightly.

"And then the bigger stuff can enter. Granted, everything has to set for a few days, kind of like how you stick jello in a fridge." His father grimaced. "The ghosts may start to consider this a vacation home. I suspect daily invasions."

"What on earth are we going to do?" Tucker asked, a tremor in his voice.

"Adapt." His mother said simply. "We'll probably have to get ghost shelters built, ghost drills in the school, a plan of defense against the more violent ones. We might need to have funds diverted to the research of ghost shields, capturing devices, and weapons as well."

"Capturing devices?" Mr. Foley questioned. "Are you planning on sticking them in some holding container like the Ghostbusters, cause that didn't work out so well for them."

"Better." His mother smiled then. "We're building a portal so we can stick them straight back into their home."

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>"At least we get out of school for a little while," Tucker said with a small smile. Danny sighed heavily and shook his head.<p>

"Mom's already trying to get it reinstated. Probably won't be more than three days."

Tucker swore under his breath, earning a reproving glare from Sam. While his mother made calls to the mayor and the city council, his father took over the education of Tucker's folks. He had borrowed Danny's book – or rather Miss Invisible's book – and was reading bit out of it, answering questions and the like. It was a rare scene to behold, his father teaching someone else. He almost couldn't recognize him. He was so used to his silly nature, his inability to fully understand real life. But then again, now real life reflected everything he had ever taught him. He felt warmth in his chest, a gratitude for never giving up even when everyone around him thought him incompetent. Then Jack nodded, handed the Foley's the book, and disappeared downstairs.

"Where did he go?" Tucker asked as his parents came over to sit beside him.

"He went go finish that portal. I think we got the jest of it by now. Now kids, this is going to be hard but—"

"Mr. Foley," Sam cut him off with a sigh. "We already believe in ghosts. In fact, we've read that entire book you're holding. Well," she said glancing at Tucker, "most of it anyway."

Mr. Foley looked rather surprised but he nodded. "I suppose I should have expected that. After all, this is your book, isn't it Danny?"

"Uh yeah," he answered with a small smile. "We figured it out right when the school-year started."

"How are you guys taking this?" Tucker asked, glancing between his parents with something akin to worry. "Your _okay_, right?"

"Yes, okay is a good way to put it," his mother said with a nervous laugh. It died out quickly, leaving them in silence for a few moments. Then, Mrs. Foley stood up briskly, smacking her hands together. "Come, let's start cleaning this place up."

"R-really?" Danny said. "You don't have too—"

"No, I _need_ to," she said. "It's really the least I can do for you folks."

And so it was they spent the next hour cleaning up the living room and kitchen. Danny cut his finger on a bit of broken glass, resulting in some playful teasing from his friends – and then Danny pointed out crossly that _he_ hadn't passed out during the event and Sam roared with laughter at the look on Tucker's face. After much coaxing, Danny got his sister to join them and she started to slowly return to herself. Below them, in the basement, they could hear thudding and then a screwdriver and hammer at work. Then, just as the sun was beginning to set a very loud, amplified voice shook rang through their broken windows.

"Mr. and Mrs. Fenton! Come out here and explain what is GOING ON!"

"Oh boy," Sam said, her already pale face lightening a few shades. "This isn't going to be good." And she dashed to the door, the rest of them hot on her tail. Jazz peaked out the door, made a odd choking noise and yelled for hers and Danny's parents to get there.

There, in front of their house was what looked like a mob of people. In the front were Sam's parents, her mother holding up a microphone. Danny was always struck whenever he saw them how much the looked like a couple from back in the fifties. There was a thundering behind them and his father joined them, looking tired but alert.

"Your mother is still on the phone, what's going on?"

"Oh nothing, just an angry mob set to destroy us," Danny said weakly. His father stared at him for a moment, as though not entirely sure if he was joking or not and then they went out onto the front.

"Samantha! Get over here now!"

Danny cringed, but looked over at Sam, curious about her reaction. As he had expected, she didn't move. She folded her arms, her eyes narrowing. Her mother glared at her but didn't ask her a second time, instead deciding to fix her furious glare on Jack.

"Jack Fenton, would you care to explain _this?_" She said her eyes narrowing at a ghost that passed before her before vanishing into thin air.

"Pamela," his father began cautiously. "This is not our doing, we literally _couldn't_ have done this."

"No?" shouted someone from the crowd. "You've been spouting about ghosts since you first moved in here!"

"Yeah, this is all your _fault_!"

"If you hadn't been doing those freaky experiments maybe they would've left us alone!"

There was a thunderous yell of approval through the crowd. Danny found himself taking a step back, panic fluttering in his chest, tensing to run. He wasn't sure whether or not they'd just grab his parents – and his sister and him probably – and stick lock them up or just kill them. He paled; he didn't fancy either option. He glanced up at his father, and was surprised by the calmness he possessed. Jack looked out at them all for a moment before shouting above the crowd and bringing silence.

"Well, get rid of us then! Unless you know another ghost-hunting family in town." Silence met his words. And he nodded jerkily. "Well then, you're going to have to accept that we're the authority when it comes to ghosts and listen to us."

There was some scattered grumbling, but Danny was relieved to see that people were letting go of their anger. They looked more tired now – and scared, he realized. Every time a ghost would form they'd flinch. It struck him then that probably most of these people had converged her not just because the Manson's had rallied them together, but because they _knew_ that either this was the center of the problem, or the answer to the solution. And, from the look of it, they were accepting that it was the latter. Pamela Manson, though still looking very upset, relented and nodded.

"So what do we do?" she asked, defeated.

"There's going to be some changes around here." Danny jumped. He hadn't realized that his mother had finished her phone call and joined them. She smiled gently at her husband, putting a hand on his shoulder before turning to the multitude before them and descending the stairs toward them. After a moment's hesitation the rest of them followed.

"I just had a long conversation with the mayor," Maddie continued. "There are going to be several changes around here, the least of which being our attitude toward certain aspects of life." She glanced at one of the specters that had formed before turning back to everyone. "But let us discuss this at the city hall, the mayor has called an emergency meeting. There, he and I will explain everything and answer any questions that you might have."

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>Danny had never been to a city meeting, mostly because he had assumed that they would be very long and very boring. And, after nearly three hours of sitting in on this one, he was beginning to think he had been very right – or at least, would have been if the topic weren't so serious.<p>

Their mayor, a short stout man with a very bushy mustache, had begun the meeting by acknowledging the threat and then proposing a new state of action. His mother, aided by his father, would become his ghost security advisers. He then gave the podium over to his mother, who then spent the next hour explaining everything as simply as she could about ghosts and what they were currently experiencing. They were still in the process of answering questions about this information.

"What time is it?" Sam asked with a yawn from beside him.

"Nearly nine."

"It feels like later…"

"They haven't even started on what they are going to be _doing_." Tucker groaned and rubbed his eyes. "All these stupid questions…"

"Hey," Sam admonished, "Not everyone is as ready to accept this as us."

"Oh yeah? They have physical proof. Floating around, all over town."

Sam sighed, running a hand through her hair. "It's not that simple. They're being forced to consider the afterlife and for some of them they don't believe in anything. Anyway, they also have to accept our theory on the afterlife, not even the generic one."

"Okay, okay," Tucker said. "I get it. Stop it, my brain is already mush."

"Hey, I think the questioning is over," Danny said abruptly, sitting up in his seat. Indeed, his mother was clearing her throat, exchanging glances with the mayor. The crowd looked content, no other hands were waving in the air.

"Oh finally," Tucker said with a moan. "You do realize that we never got to have dinner?"

"Shut up, Tuck!" Danny hissed, although he was very amused. Of course, Tucker would be thinking about food at a time like this. "We're about to find out if we even have school for the rest of the year."

"Oh, don't wish for that," Sam muttered. "We'd be behind a year then!"

Danny didn't answer; his mother had started to speak.

"Now that _that's_ all settled, there are going to be a few changes that will need to be implemented," Maddie began with a formal air. Danny wondered why she had never bothered becoming a public leader, and then the reason slapped him in the face with a big fat _duh! _ "First and foremost, we need to make sure the youth are protected. I am requesting that we implement a "ghost drill" in the school, as well as the creation of some bunkers just in case we are faced with a large-scale invasion. Research needs to be done on creating better ghost shields, and ghost weapons. Fenton-Works as of right now doesn't have the resources to do all this immediately."

She paused, looking at everyone. There was no objection to this statement and so she went on, explaining what should be done if a ghost attacked – giving different scenarios for home, work, and school. She didn't think it was necessary to set up a "Ghostbuter's type force" as ghost hunters would be arriving from both local and distant areas to tackle the danger. She asked that people not swamp them with phone-calls every time a ghost was seen, not all were violent and they wouldn't be able to deal with everything on their own. She suggested that classes be held, educating people about what to do and how to defend against specters on their own.

Finally, after another round of questions and suggestions, the meeting was concluded when it was nearly midnight and Tucker had fallen sleep on the chair next to them. Danny yawned and stretched, blinking rapidly.

"So, do we have school? I think I missed that—"

Sam nudged him in the ribs. "Yeah, starting tomorrow already. I don't think a lot is happening just—" a yawn punctuated her sentence. "—just a more assembly type deal, educating us about everything that's going on and then drill practices. Actual school will resume Wednesday."

Danny groaned loudly. "Do we even have to _go?_ We already know everything, and we were present for this entire thing."

Sam shrugged. "I might be able to convince my parents to let me skip."

"I doubt mine will," Danny said crossly poking Tucker awake. "They'll probably say the more prepared you are, the better it'll be."

"Wa' for eating?" Tucker grumbled, slowly coming too.

"C'mon, get up. We're going home now."

"Finally." Tucker got up and stretched, popping his back.

Danny smiled before finding his mother in the crowd. She was talking to a group of teachers; no doubt relating to them the drill plans and assorted information. He couldn't see Webb among them though. He frowned, wondering where Mr. Worth before he spotted her being led her from the back. Even though _he_ was the one with the cane, he was supporting her. She looked awful, but her eyes were sharp and determined. As his gaze fell on them Mr. Worth looked up and met his gaze.

"I'll be right back."

"Dude, I'll see you later. My parent's are leaving now," Tucker said with another yawn. "Text me when you get up."

"Sure."

"I'm going too," Sam said. "See you tomorrow, maybe."

"Right." Danny waved and wormed his way through the crowd. He reached Mr. Worth just as he was directing Webb to a seat in the midst of the group of teachers still talking to his parents. When he saw him however, he whispered something into his fellow teacher's ear and crossed over to him.

"Well, it seems that we are not long the only ones to see the footprints."

"Yeah," Danny said with a grin. "You can say that. Hey, is Webb all right?"

The smile on Mr. Worth's face faltered a little. "She should be in bed, but…" he sighed rubbing his temple. "She's just a little overworked."

"Maybe she should take the day off tomorrow…"

"Oh, she will." Something in the way that he smiled made Danny think that he'd drag the sick teacher back home if he had too. That made him relax a little. What he knew of her so far, well, he liked her class and she was a great adviser. "Danny," Mr. Worth continued bringing him back to the present, "be careful, all right? Your house is going to be the safest, and most dangerous place now."

"I know. I'll be careful."

Mr. Worth nodded. "Shall I assume that you won't be in school tomorrow?"

"That depends on whether my parents force me to go."

His teacher laughed. "Well, if you don't show up I won't be worried that you got attacked on the way there."

Danny smiled in return and bade him farewell. His sister came up then, looking nearly ready to fall over. "Mom and Dad might need to stay for bit longer, I'll take you home."

Danny nodded and they walked back together, a flashlight leading the way since the power was still out. He was relieved to see that there were hardly any ghosts about now, probably coming to an end of the first stage. He glanced at his sister every now and then, making sure she was all right. Jazz didn't say anything until they were standing in front of the house.

"You tried to tell me, didn't you?" she said abruptly.

"What?" Danny said, taken aback.

"That time I came to talk to you? You told me what mom said, you already knew then, didn't you?"

Danny was silent for a moment, then, "Yes. I did."

Jazz laughed, but the sound held no mirth. "I should have listened. Should have given it a chance." She unlocked the door and went inside.

"You couldn't have known, Jazz," Danny said slowly.

"But I should have."

"It doesn't make any sense to the scientific mind."

"But that's just it. It _does_ make sense." She yelled with frustration and sat down on the couch, putting her head in her hands. "There is nothing in my research to actually contradict this existence. If I base it solely on what has been observed, one might even go so far as to suggest that the possibility of a higher power, of a realm after death is not so far-fetched."

"Whoa there Jazz. You might make me think you've suddenly become religious."

"Who knows, maybe I will." She looked up at him. "Can you really believe in ghosts, can you have a _knowledge_ of ghosts and the afterlife and _not_ believe in something?"

"Well," Danny said, taking a seat beside her. "I mean, mom doesn't believe, does she?"

"I think that she might, actually. I haven't asked her, but I don't see how she can be a part of that world and not see the light as well as the dark."

Danny yawned. "Jazz, it's too late – too early rather – to discuss philosophy and religion."

"Do you believe?"

Danny paused, staring back into her sea-green eyes. She had that determined look on her face, and knew that she wouldn't let him leave until he had answered. But what was his answer. Sure, Danny believed in ghosts, one hundred percent, but God? He'd always considered himself Agnostic, no way for them to know for certain. But was that really true? Wasn't this whole situation evidence that there was a Hell and a Devil? Therefore, wasn't it logical to assume that there was also a Heaven and a God?

He felt the warmth in his chest again, as though there was a fire resting on top of his heart. It filled him up, and he found that he knew the answer.

"Yeah. I think I do. It's like you said. You can't have darkness, without light."


	13. The Portal

**Author's Note**

I. Have. Finished. The. First. Part! WOOT! At 59,003 words it is the longest story I have ever written. I hope you enjoy this end to Danny Fenton, and this beginning to Danny Phantom. I feel rather pleased with it myself. I'm going to take a short break in between this and the sequel, so don't be alarmed if you don't get an update quickly. I have finals and need to plot the next stage in the story. I can also post some deleted scenes from this arc if you would like me to.

The next part is: **Dust to Dust**

Reviews will inspire me to get the next part out faster, so it is in _your_ best interest to review. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirteen<strong>  
><strong>The Portal<strong>

Houses are not haunted. _We_ are haunted, and regardless of the architecture with which we surround ourselves, our ghosts stay with us until we ourselves are ghosts.

DEAN KOONTZ, _Velocity_

* * *

><p>His life did not flash before his eyes.<p>

He was almost disappointed, the absence making him feel cheated. Didn't everyone say that it was supposed to happen? He had expected to see everything he felt proud of, everything that he wished he could have done better, and regret for the things he did not do. But there was nothing, not even a tunnel of darkness with a light at the end.

There was nothing, but blinding pain and penetrating light. His vision was filled with the brightest color of white that he had ever seen, a pristine unblemished _white_. Something so beautiful should not have been accompanied with so much pain. It was within him. Rocking his very core. Every limb was on fire, every muscle, every bone. His nerves shrieked and shook, his cells danced across fire, his DNA writhed and shivered. He knew he was screaming more loudly than he'd ever screamed in his life, but the sound was far away. The horrible agonizing wail was all around him, outside of him, as though he were hearing someone else. And that's certainly what it felt like. That _sound_, it couldn't belong to him and yet he knew it did.

There was only one thought that he could form, only one that he could focus on amid everything else.

This was the end of the line.

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>Danny didn't know how he'd done it, but somehow he had managed to convince his parents into allowing him to stay home under the pretense that he would be willing to help his father finish making the Fenton Portal. Of course that wasn't to say that he wouldn't help – he really did want to see that thing completed – but he also knew it was one of the few things that would get his parents to say <em>yes<em> to his request. In that respect, he supposed he had been killing two birds with one stone. Though, in the end, he had merely watched his dad install a few sheets of metal before he was sent away so that his father could _focus_.

But how his father could focus, Danny had no idea given the absolute pandemonium that was surrounding the town. When he returned to school that following Wednesday, there was no hint of the normalcy that had once possessed its halls. Construction workers were constantly interrupting class as they installed a new alarm system – which functioned quite similarly to that of a fire alarm except there were no sprinklers. His mother hadn't perfected the ghost detection device yet, simply because she said the current design was now useless due to the curse that placed upon the land. There was ectoplasmic residue everywhere now, and her device went haywire the instant it was turned on. So, instead, there were going to be little "ghost alarms" throughout the school and one merely had to pull the lever. Danny assumed that then his parents would be notified, since they were the current force when it came to fighting against ghosts.

And, for once, Danny was receiving a bit of positive attention. No longer was his family the crackpots of the city. Now, they were the only thing keeping the town on its feet, becoming a beacon of hope of sorts. It was almost cool; to be stopped politely as he walked down the hall and asked a few questions about ghosts and the like. Sam and Tucker were sharing the spotlight with him as well, probably because everyone knew that they were his best friends. Even Dash had taken a break from his usual bullying.

The first week came to a close, and then the next week started. Everything started calming down as the preparations were finished. Danny yawned and turned to stare out the window, unable to follow Webb's lecture that served as an introduction to basic laboratory science. She had been gone for two days after the initial restart of school and he was glad to see that she was looking a little better. Terrified, but better. Then again, everyone was a little terrified. They were all waiting, Danny included, for the first real ghost sighting. Or at least, the first malevolent sighting. The first sighting of a ghost had been in the box store on Main Street, but the owner hadn't seemed troubled by it. If anything, he was rather pleased that he kept getting more boxes.

"Hey, are you planning on working on the portal with your dad again today?"

Danny turned to Tucker, nodding. "Or at least try to." He smiled. His dad thought it was great that he was interested in the contraption, but seemed a little too anxious to actually let him work on it.

"He's still only letting you watch?"

"Yeah. He is really trying to get it right. You know that they haven't ever actually built a working one, and they've had the idea since their college days."

Sam turned toward the two of them now, obviously having overheard him. She blinked, biting her lip. "I wonder—" she trailed off.

"What?"

"Do you think they _can_ actually do it?" She glanced quickly up at Webb, but the teacher seemed oblivious to their little side-discussion. "I mean, what if the reason that they haven't been able to build one before is because it's actually impossible?"

Danny frowned, but he couldn't immediately shoot down her worry, for it was perfectly plausible. "Well," he said after a moment, "If doesn't work here, I don't think it'll work anywhere."

Sam nodded, and he saw a flicker of worry in her eyes. "So… what happens if it _doesn't_ work? I know that they want to use it to send the ghosts they catch back to the Ghost Zone. So, what happens when they can't?"

To his surprise, Tucker spoke up before he could answer. "I guess we'll have to learn how to exorcise them back then."

Sam and Danny stared at him for a moment before breaking into chuckles that were quickly smothered when Webb looked curiously toward them. "I'm not becoming a priest," Danny choked out and Sam's face became very red as she tried not to laugh. Tucker grinned.

"Nor I," he said with a sigh, glancing back toward the board for a moment. "But do you have to be one do perform exorcisms?"

Danny shrugged. "I have no idea. But hopefully it won't come to that."

Their conversation was forced to end then as Webb instructed them all to come to the front of the classroom and get a tub containing common lab items and make a list of each one, their proper name and use. It was very easy. Danny had grown up around most of the equipment, watched his parents use each one.

"So what's the difference between a flask and a beaker?" Tucker asked as they started packing up with the bell. "I mean they're both pretty much the same thing, right?"

"For flasks you mix stuff in them, whereas in a beaker you heat it." Danny grinned and followed them out the doors of the school. The days seemed to go by a lot faster now, probably because there were so many things on his mind that the class just seemed to fly by. He wasn't complaining, in fact, he felt that he'd never had it so good.

And then something collided with the side of his head, knocking him to his knees. Blinking stars out of his eyes, a hand rising automatically to massage the spot, he tried to find the offender. He didn't have to look for long.

"Oops, sorry Fen-toad. Must've slipped my hand."

Danny had to bite his tongue in order to stop himself from retorting. Well, this was a sure sign that everything was starting to revert back to normal. Or, rather, aspects of normalcy were worming their way back into their world. He supposed that was good, people were accepting and coming to terms with the change. Didn't mean he had to like this little aspect.

Danny glanced down angrily at the football that had been pegged toward him before striding away in a hurry down the street, Sam and Tucker hurrying to catch up with him. He grumbled a few obscenities under his breath, peeved that he hadn't expected that. Of course, Dash wouldn't let something as small as ghosts stop him from his vendetta against all those weaker and smarter than him.

"You okay, dude?" Tucker asked warily from behind him.

"Peachy," Danny said, but the anger was leaving him. He wouldn't let Dash occupy his thoughts more than he had to. The jerk didn't need any more attention than he already had. And he had more important matters on his mind. "Dad said the portal should be finished by this evening," he said as a way of changing the subject.

"What?" Sam said, shock coloring her voice. "Why didn't you say so sooner?"

"I forgot."

"You _forgot_?" Sam repeated incredulously. "Are you kidding me? That portal has been on your mind for weeks now."

"All right, geeze, I didn't think you guys were so eager." Danny fidgeted. "I thought you were getting a little annoyed with my obsession with it."

"Well, you have been ditching us in favor to watch your dad work on it."

"Thanks Tuck." Danny scratched the back of his neck. "And, I'm not so sure my parents will let you guys watch them turn it on."

Tucker and Sam stared at him. "Why not?" Sam questioned, her brow furrowing. "Are they worried that something will go wrong?"

"Well, it's like you said before, nothing like this has ever succeeded before." Danny swallowed. "I think they're just being cautious."

"Well, in any case, I want to be there." Sam folded her arms resolutely, making it clear that this wasn't negotiable. Tucker glanced at her before nodding in agreement.

"We're just as interested. Seriously." He lightly bumped Danny's shoulder with his fist.

"There's something else too," Danny began slowly, biting his lip.

"What?"

"If it does work, I think there's also the possibility of something coming through and attacking us. If that happens—"

"Danny," Sam interrupted. "I'll sign a waver okay? I'm going to be there."

Danny stared at her for a moment. They had reached the front of his house through the course of their conversation, the three of them pausing on the sidewalk. He knew it would only work if his parents literally _couldn't_ say no. Meaning, Sam and Tucker were just going to show up the event as though they had been invited. Danny sighed before nodding. "All right."

"Good, now I gotta go home before my parents think I've been ghost-napped or something."

"They're still being overprotective?" Danny asked with a smile.

"You have no idea," Sam said darkly. "I might need to sneak out for this thing. Oh well, see you."

"See you."

"Don't forget to text us," Tucker shouted over his shoulder, making Danny laugh.

"I won't."

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>Danny yawned and leaned back in his chair, having finally finished – or more accurately, given up – his math homework. The only blessing was that there was substantially less of it, so his torture was relatively short. It still took him a lot longer than what it should have, a fact that frustrated him greatly. He was almost annoyed that he hadn't inherited his parent's mathematical ability. He stretched, and then began stuffing his books back into his bag. He always saved math for last, simply because it was his least favorite, but at least now he had the rest of the night.<p>

He glanced at the clock. It was nearly five. He wondered briefly whether or not he should go down to the lab and check how the portal was coming, but before he could actually decide, a wave of cold washed over him.

He knew that feeling.

Instantly, he froze, his heart thudding in his chest. There was something here, and there was no telling what it was. He willed himself to calm down, to walk slowly over to his bedside table and pick up the ecto-gun that rested upon it. That gun hadn't left his side since his mother had given it too him. He had barely taken a step toward it, when the sound of laughter reached him and he relaxed – though just barely.

"I was wondering if I'd ever hear from you again," he said lightly, though he didn't stop his movement toward the gun.

"Planning to shoot me?" Her voice came from behind him, pleasantly amused.

"Doesn't hurt to be cautious," he countered, though he stopped his attempt at retrieving the weapon. He knew that she could've gotten to it before him, attacked him the instant she had seen where he was headed. That had to count for something, didn't it?

"Indeed. I would've come sooner, but your mother's device…"

Danny nodded, though he wasn't even sure she could see it. His mother had said that it no longer worked do too all the interference it was receiving from the curse. But still, it had been at least a few weeks. "No need to explain." Honestly, there wasn't. It hadn't been as though he had been expecting her – even if he had been hoping she'd turn up.

"You might want to leave before she sees—" Danny's words immediately cut off, for he had turned around not so see just plain air but a woman.

She reminded him of something out of those historical films, set in the late nineteen hundreds. She wore a vintage dress, a black one complete with silvery blue lace trimmings and the fluff at the back. But although the colors were still as vibrant as the day they had been sown, the cloth showed evidence of time. The ends were frayed and falling apart, the cloth ripped and added onto, holes in her white-laced sleeves. She was very pale, her skin seeming to hold an almost blue tint. Her black hair had been pulled back into a very messy up-do, her curls falling messily over her shoulders, dark eyes intertwined with brilliant crimson and dark burgundy.

She looked highly amused by his silence, her pale lips curved up into a smile. "Oh, I have no doubt that she could see me, but she'd have to walk through the door first." She paused a moment, as though listening. "Nope, she's still in the lab. Lucky me, don't you think?"

"You—" Danny spluttered. She seemed to be a similar age to his sister, if not a year older.

"Don't be daft," she interrupted. "Otherwise I'll go right back to being invisible. And before you ask, no I didn't _suddenly_ become able to let you see me. I find it more amusing to be unseen, although…" she closed her eyes for a moment her hands coming to rest parallel to his floor. "I gotta say, doesn't take as much effort. None, almost."

Danny swallowed, trying to come to his senses. "So, what? Did you die in the late 1800's or something?" She laughed at that, and Danny cast a panicked look toward the door, hoping no one heard her bell-like giggles.

"I was _born_ in the late 1800's, or something like that." She grinned broadly. "I'm a gást – I'm sure you read about them in that book. I was born of ectoplasm."

"Really?"

"Oh don't look all surprised. We're pretty common. I wasn't even organized from raw ectoplasm – I actually have parents." She sighed, looking thoughtful for a moment. "I should probably add that to the book, speaking of which."

"Wait," Danny's head was reeling. He couldn't believe he was actually having a conversation with a ghost for one thing. A corporeal being that was floating a few inches off the ground – and she was, he could see her bare feet. "_You_ wrote the book?"

"Part of it," she said slowly, as though she'd rather not get into it. "But that's beside the point. How have you been doing?"

"What, is this a social call?"

"Does my appearance always require an atmosphere of ominousness?" She smirked.

"I suppose not," Danny sighed, running a hand through his hair, trying to gather his thoughts. "But I can't see any other reason why you'd willingly go into a ghost-hunter's residence. I mean it's like walking into the lion's den, isn't it?"

"A fair point." She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. She paused then, her head whipping around to look out the window. "As it is, it seems I must adjourn our little discussion. Strictly speaking, I'm disinclined to associate with you— uh," she frowned, "I mean, I'm not supposed to talk to you."

Danny blinked. "Why not?"

She shrugged in response. "Anyway, I just wanted to tell you. It _is_ possible."

"What is?"

"The door to my realm. I mean, I took a peak at your parent's calculations. They have it right so it should work. But…"

"But?" Danny pressed, his heart hammering with excitement now. It would work!

"Try not to leave it open, the door I mean. As soon as it turns on, lock it." Her expression turned for the serious. "The curse still prevents a select few from entering this dimension, but that door allows all to go through – weak or strong. They shouldn't realize it's there at first, but it could turn chaotic when they do. At least, unless your parents are as good of ghost hunters as they say they are. Then they'll think twice about jumping through."

"Okay…" Danny was rather surprised. "Why are you telling me this though? I mean, wouldn't you want ghosts to take over this town or something?"

She raised one black brow, her red eyes somewhat unnerving as they surveyed him. "No. I don't want that," she finally said. "That wouldn't be good for me, just as it would be catastrophic for you."

Danny didn't quite understand her reasoning with that, but knew she wasn't going to elaborate. She was glancing out the window again, a flicker of annoyance crossing her features. Whatever signal or message she saw wanted her to leave sooner rather than later. She sighed, turned back to him and curtseyed. "Till we meet again, though I imagine I'll be receiving a temporary reassignment after this little adventure." And she vanished from his sight. He stood there, staring at the spot that she had been for several minutes afterward, even after the chill that had settled in his room had vanished.

Their conversation, though brief, had left him with several things to think about. For one thing, who exactly was she? She never gave her name and turned up at the randomness of times. And now what was this talk of how she wasn't allowed to see him, strictly speaking? It was almost as if she had orders from someone else… but who exactly was a puzzle to him – after all, he couldn't think of any reason someone would be ordering a ghost unless it was another ghost. He shivered, thinking of Azazel. He _would_ do it too, have fun interfering with his life like this.

He supposed that was what demons were meant to do, cause chaos and make men miserable.

But he hadn't expected her to look so… human. True, the bluish skin and the red eyes threw him off, but she _felt_ human if that made sense. She reminded him a lot of his sister, what with the way she kept warning him and giving him advice. At least she wasn't obnoxious about it like Jazz was. Jazz. Danny was halfway to the door before he'd fully formed the thought. He knew he couldn't talk to his parents about this, his mother would freak out, and his father would go on stake out and try to vaporize her with his latest _toy_. True, his mother believed that some ghosts were little more than bothersome and not deadly, but he had seen how edgy she had been the last time she'd known _she_ was here. Shoot first ask questions later, or never depending on the shot. And Jazz…

Danny paused, hovering in the hallway in front of his elder sister's room. She could with him objectively about this matter; at least, he thought she could. She had been a little off ever since that conversation they'd had, that night after the town meeting. But he figured that was just her way of dealing with everything. He took a breath, and was about to knock on her door when an excited shout made him jump nearly a foot in the air. Then he heard his name being called.

"Danny!"

As he dashed down the stairs, through the living room and kitchen and down another flight of stairs, his hand went into his pocket for his phone. He was just pulling it out when he came into the lab, his father practically beaming as he gazed at the finished portal before him. The metal was sleek, fitting into the hole of the wall. A large amount of cables were on the floor around it, and Danny was relived to see that his father _had_ in fact added a blast door mechanism. It went back about four feet on the inside, the metal within an unfamiliar blue color. His mother looked equally thrilled. She gave her husband a kiss before rushing over the computer.

_It's done_, Danny texted to his friends.

"Let's turn it on!"

"What?" Danny's stomach squirmed. His friends wanted to be here for this! "Now?"

His father nodded and moved for a few cables on the floor, checking everything was connected. Danny swallowed and opened his phone again. _Get over here now! They've decided to turn it on._

"Jack, give me a moment to finish checking the configurations."

His father paused, holding up two cables. That last two cables, a wide grin on his face. Danny could practically see that he was itching to just connect them, but he seemed so determined to get this right that he was exerting more self-control than Danny had ever seen. Danny wrung his thumbs, hoping his friends had got the message. His parents had finished it a little sooner than he had anticipated and he had assumed that they would want to do a few more calculations before just switching it on like this!

"Okay, ready!" his mother called breathlessly, and she pulled the hood of her suit up, her glasses down.

"Wait!" Danny said, but it was too late.

"Banzai!"

His father connected the two cables. There was a bright spark of electricity within the circle, white streaks of lightening jumping from the top to the bottom before everything became still once more. Everything was quiet, not even the sound of humming machinery. Danny walked cautiously over to his parents, the shock of having the event being sprung on him like this being replaced by puzzlement. Miss Invisible – well, not so invisible now – had said it would work, so why wasn't it?

"Did the circuit breakers blow?" he asked.

His father – and he didn't miss the expression of huge disappointment on his face – grunted something unintelligible and dropped the cable to go and glance at the box that controlled the electricity in the whole house.

"It's working fine," he said gruffly.

"It's okay Jack," his mother said coming over to pat his arm. "We knew there was this possibility."

"What do you mean?" Danny said frowning. "It's going to work. It _has_ to work."

"Danny, sweetie, sometimes it doesn't."

"No, you don't understand. It _has to work_." Was Miss Invisible wrong? She'd never been wrong before! "Maybe you just did something wrong, missed a cable." Why would she have come to him to say it would work, if it didn't?

"Danny," his mother said warningly and he fell silent. "We'll think of something else," she muttered to her husband softly before leading him up the stairs and out of the lab, leaving Danny to stand in the silence. He stared at the portal, at the defunct piece of hardware. His phone vibrated and he glanced at the message from Tucker.

_On my way, can you stall them?_

Too late for that, he thought bitterly. _Couldn't. Doesn't matter anyway, it didn't work._ He cast one last frustrated look toward the contraption before heading up the stairs.

* * *

><p>Ashes to Ashes<p>

* * *

><p>Danny and Tucker were sitting in the living room, both staring at the floor with identical glum expressions. Sam had texted Danny a few minutes after his last message to Tucker relating that her parents had her on 'house arrest' because her mother thought she'd seen a wisp of white at the supermarket. Not that it mattered if she came anymore, since it hadn't worked. When Tucker had shown up at the door, Danny had wasted no time in telling him about the incident with Miss Invisible and other than being a little miffed that he hadn't at least gotten a picture of her to show him, he was equally confused and frustrated by her words. If was supposed to work, why hadn't it?<p>

They had been sitting in silence for nearly fifteen minutes when his mother came down the stairs, closely followed by his father. They both seemed rather deflated, but Danny could see that his mother hadn't given up. "We'll be right back, okay?"

"'Kay," Danny grunted. His mother didn't often elaborate on _where _they would be going, merely that they would be back soon. He assumed they were going to fetch a piece of equipment or something else that didn't need explanation. The next project. He wondered why they didn't spend more time trying to fix the portal, but then again, they _had_ been trying to get it to work for years now.

"Don't get into trouble. Try to stay out of the lab."

Danny grunted again and she smiled softly at the both of them before leading the way out. Not two minutes after she had left, Sam burst through the door looking flushed, a bag swinging from her side.

"Sam?" Danny said, standing up. "I thought you said your parents wouldn't let you out!"

"What?" She looked confused for a moment, and then she seemed to come to it. "Like they can keep me in. I told you I'd sneak out of my house to see this."

"Yeah, but Sam," Tucker said looking up at her now, his light green eyes sad. "It didn't work. We sent you the text."

"Well," she paused for a moment. "Can we at least see it? I mean, maybe your folks just forgot to plug in something."

"I don't know…" Danny said. His mother had _just_ asked if they would stay out of the lab. There were a lot of other things in there, besides the portal. And some of it he knew his parents were a little worried about him being around without supervision. However, Sam apparently didn't care about this for she seized his hand and began leading the way down to the lab.

"C'mon," she said ignoring his protests. "Just a peak."

"Okay, okay. Fine." Danny glanced back at Tucker and after a moment his best friend got up and followed him down.

Sam didn't let go of his wrist the whole way down the stairs, making it a little awkward on the steps. He stumbled on the landing and finally she let go. "So that's it?" she breathed, pointing toward the metallic hole in the wall. Danny nodded.

"Yeah, it is."

"Whoa." She produced a camera from the bag and Danny glanced at it in curiosity. "When did you start wearing a purse?"

She pursed her lips and lifted the camera to take a picture of the laboratory. "I didn't want to be seen with a camera around my neck like a paparazzi." She walked forward, coming closer to the portal. "That's really cool."

"It'd be cooler if it worked."

"Do you have to wear something special when you go inside?"

Danny blinked, rather taken aback by the question. "Well, I'm not sure. My parents were in their hazmat suits when they were close to it, so maybe."

"Aren't they always in their suits?"

"I mean they had their goggles on too." Danny added and Tucker nodded thoughtfully.

"Do you have one?" Sam shot.

"One what?"

"Hazmat suit."

"Uh… yeah." A little confused by the spout of random questions, Danny went into one of the tables that had drawers and pulled out the bottom on. He had only ever worn it once, while his parents had been doing an experiment with ectoplasm and he'd needed to ask his dad a question about math – they had refused to leave the lab during the process and demanded that he wear his suit. It wasn't incredibly embarrassing, like theirs – even if still had his dad's face on his chest. It was white, with black gloves, boots, and belt. There was a portion around his neck that was black as well. Sam smiled when she saw it.

"Come over here," and she pushed him in front of the portal. "I wanna picture."

"What?" Danny blinked. "Uh, fine."

"Smile!"

He was blinded for a moment as the flash shone in his eyes. "Okay, I showed you the portal. Can we get outta here now; my parent could be back any minute. Besides, it doesn't work anyway."

Sam didn't seem the least bit bothered by that statement. It was weird, the Goth girl being the cheerer then them. "C'mon Danny, you said in that text that Miss Invisible said it would work. Maybe they just missed something." Danny had never heard a sentence of _maybe_ sound so sure in his life. He stared at her for a moment before smiling and looking back at the portal.

"You know what, your right. Who knows what kind of awesome super cool things exist on the other side of that portal." He glanced down at the suit and slipped it on, over his clothes. It was a little snug, but not obnoxiously so. He was about to walk inside to look at the cabling when Sam stopped him.

"Hang on." She grabbed the face of his dad and ripped it off his chest, like it was a magnet. "You can't go walking around with that on your chest," and she slapped something else that was black onto it instead.

"Um, what is that?"

"Just, trust me, okay?"

Danny surveyed her curiously for a moment before deciding to take her word for it. He wanted to know _what_ it was, but figured he could look in the mirror later. He took a deep breath and stepped inside the portal, looking around at the cool blue lighting the lit it up. He realized that was what made the metal have that color. After checking the back for the cables – which to his dismay were all in order – he was about to walk out when he passed by a control panel. He paused, staring at it before pushing opening it.

_You have got to be kidding me_.

There was two buttons, one brilliant green, the other bright red. An 'ON' and 'OFF' switch. He almost burst out laughing. Of course, his father would plug everything in and then forget to press on. He had probably forgotten about it because he'd placed it on the _inside_ instead of outside by the computer where it _should_ have been. He smiled, and pressed the green button.

Immediately, he knew he had made a huge mistake. He hadn't quite thought about the fact that he was _inside_, that the thing that was going to turn on was right were he was standing. He hadn't realized that the energy was going to fill this spot, make it look like there was never a hole in the first place. As he was blinded by a vibrant green light, horrible shocking pain wracked through him. Every bone was on fire, his muscles were shrieking in agony. A ten thousand bolts of ectoplasmically charged electricity was coursing through his body. He was screaming, ripping his throat as his painful cries filled and reverberated around the metal-sheeted room. It felt as though the light was blasting through his body, that the wave-like particles were going straight through him, not caring as they collided with his atoms. His yells sounded afar off, as though they weren't coming from him.

And then his vision went stark white. The pain was still there, but it felt strange. It was almost as though he weren't experiencing it anymore, as though he was remembering the sensation through a dream. He closed his eyes, and then opened them, breathing slowly. The whiteness never left, the snowy light all-consuming.

He had died.

It was the first thought his pain filled brain could actually form. He had died in his attempt to turn on the portal. But why did it hurt so much still? Everything was aching, as though he had just run a marathon without being properly prepared. Maybe his parents would take solace in the fact that his death had not been in vain. He _knew_ the portal was working, that it was on. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew it. His eyes shut; he could feel the tears forming. Now was when he really wished he had more confidence in an ethereal being.

"Fear not."

His eyes snapped open. He could see a figure in the distance. He couldn't make out anything more than that, the bright light still overpowering him.

"You have not done the work you were meant to. It is not your time yet."

Danny wanted to ask what the voice meant. He tried to open his mouth, but found it was already open, still screaming on the other side of the veil. He felt a hand on his shoulder, felt warmth and comfort flow through him. He had never felt such peace in his life, such happiness. It felt like a drop of gold had been poured into his heart, like he was shinning.

"You have been called to do a great and marvelous work among these people. You have been called as their protector." The words were starting to fade away, blackness prickling around the edges of his vision. "Daniel Fenton, fight against the adversary till the end of time."

And then his world went black.


	14. Coming Soon

**Coming Soon**

**Dust to Dust**

* * *

><p>So, because I realize that this arc doesn't have any of the crossovers mentioned in the author's note – not to mention the completely insane length of the story, I am changing it to complete. Don't panic, it just means that I'm going to be coming out with a sequel that'll be much more – I dunno – fast-paced? This one it feels a little slow to me in retrospect.<p>

Also, though I love the demon aspect in this version, they will hardly be playing a roll in the future. In fact, I think the only reason I had our dear Azazel sweep through Amity Park was so that the amazing Winchester Brothers would be inclined to follow him.

And let's face it; Danny Phantom's specialty is ghosts, not demons. But, the explanation needed to be made on how ghosts were formed and all that fun stuff. Depending on fan requests, I may actually bring back Azazel for a chapter or two.

Also, a question:

Do you really like Webb and Worth? Would you like to see them in the second part? I understand how some readers are hesitant when it comes to OC's - I myself am horribly skeptical of them. And after some pottage on my part here's my decision:

* * *

><p>Unless you<strong> review<strong> and ask for **Webb and Worth to STAY**, I will be **removing** them from the story.

* * *

><p>If I remove them, Mr. Lancer would take on a much more interactive role - something I kind of missed in this first part of the story. His sister Jazz would also be more evident, since I feel that Webb was taking that position. Another reason I want to take them out is because I am planning an original story staring those two characters.<p>

* * *

><p>So, that's pretty much everything.<p>

I can still post another chapter of deleted material if you so wish it - but no one's asked so *shrug*

Also, I've noticed several spelling errors in here. ^^"

Anyone want to be a wonderful Beta for me and edit those little misspellings?

PM me or add it in your review.


	15. Deleted Scenes

**Deleted Scenes**

****Okay, I love how I got a review asking for these in all caps. I hope you guys like it. Some of them are super funny, and some of them were obviously taken out because they were muse destroyers. My comments on the scene are written in **bold**_**.**_

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong> So, for this first one I never had any intention of putting it into the story, because it was just a short comedic paragraph. Not to mention that I didn't write it, my occasional co-writer, White Rabbit Asylum did. It's a funny story actually, she'd come over to hang out. I went to go fix us up some lunch and told her that I wouldn't give it to her until she'd written a post for me – something to get me going. This is that result and it's totally awesome.<strong>

Courtesy of White Rabbit Asylum

Danny whirled around. Professor Snape stood there. He looked exactly like he did in the books. "This, Fenton," he said slowly, "is the sort of post that results when you leave your best friend to write it for you when you're in a place where she has basically no idea what the hell you're doing or what character you're introducing. This is the sort of post that results when you hold a poor, starving girl's food hostage. Take a seat. Class is in session."

* * *

><p><strong>This following scene was the original opening to Chapter Four. However, it didn't feel right to me – not to mention that my muse was withering away – so I scraped it.<strong>

"_They believe in you."_

Needless to say, he didn't get much sleep that night. Of course, his insomnia couldn't be blamed entirely on his mother's ominous words. Another item was causing his gut to churn uncomfortably and keep his mind racing. It didn't leave him as he rose groggily the next morning, as he walked silently to school. He had no desire whatsoever to be squished onto the bus and mocked about the incident of yesterday. And, he didn't want Jazz psychoanalyzing every thing he did or did not say. No, he wanted to be left alone with his thoughts.

And his guilt.

Several hours after lying in wake, pondering over the possibility of ghosts, the remorse had wormed its way into his heart. He had really acted out yesterday, been moody and sulky to the two people that he really cared about, not to mention his own family. He'd seen his mother, briefly, before leaving for school. She had been talking to his dad in an undertone about something, then waved goodbye with a sad smile on her face. He hated to admit how much that hurt.

Like he'd disappointed her in some way.

Yeah, he'd been publicly humiliated. Yeah, Dash had thrown coleslaw at him. Yeah, his first day at high school had been terrible. But, his parents were going to love him no matter what. His friends would be there for him even if his parents laid siege to the mathematics wing and he was drenched in garbage. True, he would still gaze longingly at the _popular _crowd, but his friends would be right there, looking on with him – well, at least Tucker would be.

He really needed to apologize.

Leaving only a few minutes early from his house, he barely made it to school on time. He had only just stepped into English 09A when the bell chimed for class to begin. Avoiding the eyes of his classmates, he quickly took his seat near the back beside Tucker. His best friend looked worried. He opened his mouth to say something, and seemed to change his mind halfway through as the class was called into session and instead traded a significant glance with Sam – who sat on his other side. Danny felt another stab of guilt.

"Take out your essays," came Mr. Lancer's voice from the front of the classroom. Danny sighed heavily and reached into his backpack, pulling out his essay and laying it on his desk, re-reading his introductory statement. He'd had a little trouble starting it, unable to find the right words when his mind had been full with the events from the previous day. But, in the end, he'd created something he was fairly pleased with. English had always been one of his better subjects. Plus, writing an essay about himself wasn't that hard anyway.

"When I call your name, bring it up to my desk and grab one of these literature books," Mr. Lancer waved a careless hand to indicate the twenty or so thick blue books stacked on his desk, "Tell me the number, and then begin reading chapter one."

The homework turn-in and book checkout process took several minutes. It seemed that some students did have difficulty with the essay, or else had forgotten it completely. In any case, their excuses amused Danny as he waited for his turn. Several times he looked over at Tucker and Sam, who were talking in undertones, wondering what to say to them. They kept casting him anxious expressions, as though half-expecting him to explode.

"Danny Fenton."

Danny glanced up at Mr. Lancer and got gingerly to his feet, feeling increasingly miserable. As he handed in his paper and retrieved the textbook – which was much heavier than he had anticipated – he made his decision. Under the pretense of taking notes on the reading, he pulled out his spiral ripped out one of the pages while Mr. Lancer was distracted with the next student. As Tucker went to the front to get his book, he scribbled in a hurried yet legible scrawl:

_I'm really sorry about ditching you and Sam yesterday. I was kinda a jerk._

He folded it up and, as Tucker was walking back to his seat, slipped it smoothly into his hand. Tucker – no doubt familiar with this tactic, especially considering that they'd done it all the time back in middle school – only glanced at him curiously before taking his seat and opening his book. After a few minutes, Tucker picked up the corner of his page and Danny gave Lancer a quick glance to make sure he was otherwise occupied before holding out his hand.

_It's all right dude. I probably would've reacted worse than you to be honest._

Danny smiled.

_Still, never did tell Sam about her surprise. _

He slipped it back. He had barely started reading the introductory paragraph when Tucker was giving him the note.

_We could tell her now. _

Danny raised an eyebrow. _What, in the middle of class?_

_Well, she's trying to read over my shoulder anyway._

Danny managed to stifle a snigger. _Haha, all right. We downloaded Bloodbath 2 in HD (just show her this). _

Danny glanced up at Mr. Lancer. The books had all been checked out, the class silently reading their assigned chapter while Mr. Lancer graded their papers at his desk. He held out the note and Tucker took it. After glancing at the message briefly he grinned and passed it to Sam – who, Danny could see, was _very_ interested in what they were talking about. There was a moment's silence, while she no doubt read over the entirety of their conversation, then she gasped.

"You what? No, way!" She muttered to them, her features shocked. It was all Danny could do to prevent himself from bursting into laughter right there. It was good that he didn't because a second later a voice called loudly toward them.

"Miss Manson, there is no need to talk while we read."

She turned pink and mumbled an apology before casting a reproachful look at Tucker and Danny, who were both grinning rather mischievously. She gave them the _details later_ glance before returning to her book – although it was obvious to both of them she was merely re-reading their note. Danny saw a small smile tugging on the corner of her lips, relief in her gaze. His heart so much lighter than it had been, ever so grateful for his two best friends, he returned to his book. He had barely settled down to _actually_ reading it when **it** happened.

A wave of icy cold washed over him, a chill crawling down his spine.

He sat bolt up right, his breath fast and unnatural. What on earth had that been? It was almost… almost as if someone had _blown on his ear_. But that was impossible, wasn't it? Must've been a draft of wind from the ventilation or an open window.

"_They believe in you."_

His mother's words came swimming back to the surface of his mind, somehow a great deal more menacing than he recalled. He shook his head, trying to clear the thought. _Get a grip_, he told himself firmly. _Otherwise you'll become just as mad as they are_.

But were they really mad though?

The bell rang, and he still hadn't finished the first paragraph. His troubled mind was reflected in his furrowed brows and it was harder than it should've been to put his book away. After he'd been at it for nearly a minute, Tucker poked him.

"Dude, are you okay? The chapter wasn't that deep."

"Wha—? Yeah, I'm fine." Danny blinked, his mind clearing slightly. "Just thinking."

Tucker watched him curiously for a moment, but before he could say anything Sam – who was already halfway to the door – called back, "Hurry up!" sending them after her. At the door, Mr. Lancer was handing back their graded essays. Which, Danny mused, meant there were either very few essays or they were all very short. Danny held out his hand as he passed Mr. Lancer, but he didn't give him the essay.

"Mr. Fenton, please stay a few minutes after class."

Danny stared at him. "But math—"

"Mr. Worth will be satisfied with a note."

Danny, perplexed as to why Mr. Lancer wanted to talk to him, could only nod and move out of line. Sam opened her mouth but Mr. Lancer cut her off.

"Danny will rejoin you in Math, Miss Manson." His tone left no room for argument.

Sam frowned, but proceeded out into the hallway, Tucker at her heels. Maybe Mr. Lancer had seen their note passing and was going to tell him off? But, then he would've asked Tucker and Sam to stay, wouldn't he? They'd been in on it. Danny fiddled with his thumbs as he waited for the rest of the class to file out. They all seemed to be avoiding his gaze, or else, ignoring him completely.

* * *

><p><strong>The following is another false start to Chapter Four<strong>

Guilt.

That's what Danny Fenton felt. From the moment he woke up, till the moment he was sitting down in Mr. Lancer's English class, his mind was wracked with remorse. He had really acted out yesterday, been moody and unreasonable to the two people that he really cared about, and not to mention his own mother. He'd seen her, briefly, before leaving for school. She had been talking to his dad in an undertone about something, and waved goodbye with a sad smile on her face. That hurt more than Sam and Tucker watching him apprehensively as they waited for the class to start, not talking – even to each other - and instead trading significant looks.

Yeah, he'd been publicly humiliated by his parents. Yeah, Dash had thrown coleslaw at him. Yeah, his first day at high school had been terrible. But, his friends were going to be there for him even if his parents laid siege to the mathematics wing and he was drenched in garbage. True, he would still gaze longingly at the _popular_ group, but his friends would be right there, looking on with him – well, at least Tucker would be.

He needed to apologize.

"Take our your essays," came Mr. Lancer's voice from the front of the classroom, interrupting his decision making. He sighed and reached into his backpack, pulling out the essay and laying it upon his desk. He'd had a little trouble starting it, what with the conversation with his mother still running around in his mind, but about eleven o'clock he'd gotten inspired and written something that he was fairly pleased with. An essay about yourself wasn't that hard anyway.

"When you bring it up to my desk, grab one of these literature books," Mr. Lancer waved a careless hand to indicate the twenty or so thick blue textbooks stacked on his desk, "And begin reading chapter one."

Danny got to his feet and followed the rest of the class. He glanced behind him and met Tucker's worried gaze. He looked unsure, opened his mouth to say something, and seemed to change his mind halfway through a hello. Danny felt another stab of guilt and managed to smile.

"Sorry, for… you know… being a jerk, yesterday."

Tucker relaxed. He broke into a grin and shrugged off Danny's apology. "It's all right, dude. I probably would've reacted worse than you, to be honest." He sighed and glanced down at the stapled paper in his hand. "I had to change my thesis." His pale green eyes narrowed, but before he could elaborate laughter behind him made him jump.

"What, couldn't write about how it's damaged your relationships?" Sam sniggered behind him. Danny grinned at her, and she beamed back. The guilt washed away. After a minute – during which Tucker grumbled something incoherent about technology and relationships – Danny was able to reach the desk. He deposited his paper on the pile he took one of the textbooks. It was extremely heavy and promised to be dull. Trading grimaces with Tucker, they walked back to their spot near the back. He heard no snide comments or sniggers regarding his person as he passed by his classmates. It seemed that he had already faded into invisibility, and though that was a good thing, it was also slightly depressing. Of course, he wasn't invisible on everyone's radar.

Especially not Dash's.

* * *

><p><strong>This scene was supposed to follow the first time Danny met Miss Invisible. However, I was growing just as frustrated as Danny and changed it up a bit.<strong>

The settle back into normalcy was almost disconcerting for Danny. There was nothing to suggest that Miss Invisible had come back while he worked in the basement, talking about the events of the day with Sam and Tucker. And soon, their conversation turned to the mundane, classes and the like. Danny found himself getting swept up by it, and wondered why it was that everyone could just accept the fact that their city was now _tainted_ and move on as though it had merely rained and was sunny once more.

It bothered him a lot. He arose the next morning, settled himself in front of the television hoping to catch some inkling of the situation on the local news. But aside from reporting about the strange electrical outage and brief cough – which they thought signaled the return of flu season and nothing more – there was nothing. He supposed that meant that no one had seen any paranormal activity, or else, they hadn't realized what they'd seen.

It was all so anti-climatic! Even his friends had seemed to write off what had happened to the town. Sure, it was exciting for the first few hours, but then when a ghost didn't float past their faces, they had just lost interest. Moved on. He had tried several times over the weekend to get them to talk about it, to realize how serious this was. They wouldn't just be forgetting it if they had seen Azazel. But they had shrugged; Sam had said that since nothing had happened then maybe nothing would while Tucker said he'd rather think about it as little as possible.

The only ones who really seemed to have any clue were his parents, but they weren't really all that concerned, more like ecstatic. And, now that they knew that he believed in their existence, they wasted no time in relating in perfect detail the function of every one of their inventions. He didn't mind as much as he used to, but then again he hardly understood a thing they said anyway. He did like the conversations they had about ghosts in general though. His mother had been absolutely thrilled when she'd seen the book – though Danny still hadn't told her where he'd got it – and they'd spent several hours simply talking.

But after all that excitement, the sudden toss back to normalcy annoyed him.

Maybe that's why, sitting in advisory that Monday morning was so particularly unbearable.

Webb was calling them all up to her desk one at a time in order to check on how they were doing after their first week of school while the rest of the class played another icebreaker game. Beside him Martin kept throwing him questioning looks, as though aware that something was bothering him. Danny was rather glad that he didn't actually ask though. There would've been no way for him to tell him what was going on, especially since Danny didn't yet know him well enough to know whether or not he'd believe him. But his frustration boiled and frothed, his confusion grew.

* * *

><p><strong>In the original draft, Danny actually got to talk to Paulina before Dash knocked his lights out. It was very brief and actually, quite hilarious.<strong>

"He's not my boyfriend," Sam said casually. Danny glanced at her, noting how she seemed to be sizing Paulina up. As though trying to decide whether or not she was a threat. Girls did that, right? Assessed each other by their beauty or something? He'd never really paid attention to his sister's psychology spiels.

"W-we weren't doing anything!" Danny said a little too quickly, his face flushing with color.

"Aren't you adorable," Paulina laughed. Danny brightened another shade of red.

"S-so are you. Adorable. No, I-I mean pretty. Beautiful. Sorry, stunning—" Tucker elbowed him in the rib.

* * *

><p>So.<p>

That's pretty much it.

I hope this keeps you entertained for a few moments while I work on Dust to Dust.


End file.
